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Book_5_«JSsL_ 



BIDCOMBE HILL, 

A DESCRIPTIVE POEM; 



TO WHICH IS PREFIXED 



AN ESSAY ON LOCAL POETRY. 



BIDCOMBE HILL, 

A RURAL AND DESCRIPTIVE 

POEM. 

SECOND EDITION. 

TO WHICH IS PREFIXED 

AN ' ESSAY 

ON 



By FRANCIS SKURRAY, B.D. 

M 

RECTOR OF W1NTERBOURNE-ABBAS, DORSET. 



-gracili modulatus avenS 



Carmen. virc., 



LONDON. 

CADELL, STRAND. 



1824. 



nt*£< 



.%"* 



y> 



\0fc\2. 

ta 



(.ROCKERS, PRINTERS, 
FRO ME. 



TO THE 



MARCHIONESS OF BATH, 



Madam, 

1 feel flattered by your polite 
acquiescence in my wish to present these pages at 
the tribunal of taste and criticism, under the 
auspicious influence of your Ladyship's protection. 

The composition of them has served as a relaxa- 
tion from the severity of professional studies, 
and has agreeably relieved those intervals of leisure 
which not. infrequently occur in sequestered retire- 
ment. 

The perusal of them may furnish a few hours of 
harmless employment to unoccupied minds. Per- //. 

haps it may excite in some breasts the glow of be- 
nevolence or the ardour of patriotism. Whatever 
may be their destiny in these respects, they will at 
least supply me with an opportunity of subscribing 
myself, ivith sentiments of deference and esteem, 

'Your Ladyship's 
Obliged and honoured Servant, 

FRANCIS SKURRAY. 



Cssay 



ON 



LOCAL POETRY. 



ESSAY ON LOCAL POETRY, 



Quis tamen affirmat nil actum in Montibus ? 

Juv. Sat. 6. 58. 



lVlANY of the Arts which aggrandize Life, 
and some of the Elegancies which embellish 
Literature, owe their discovery to our enterpri- 
zing countrymen. Amongst their pretensions 
to the latter distinction, is the production of 
Local Poetry, which derives its lineage from 
an Anglican original. 

It is singular that this species of compo- 
sition was unknown in the era of classical 
Mythology, when " a Triton ruPd on every 
angry billow, every mountain had its Nymph, 
every stream its Naiad, every tree its Hama- 
dryad, and every art its Genius." 

Denham is a name of no mean consider- 
ation in the annals of our National Poetry. 
b 2 



® ESSAY ON 

In a period of uncouth and semi-barbarous 
phraseology, his stile exemplified polish in 
conjunction with strength, and richness un- 
encumbered with redundancy. It resembled 
the River which he described so magnificently, 

" Tho' deep yet clear, tho' gentle yet not dull, 
Strong without rage, without o'erflowing, full." 

The merit however of refining, harmonizing, 
and enriching our language by brilliant, smooth^ 
and exuberant versification, is shared by Wal- 
ler, Dryden, and Roscommon. The title 
which Denham has established for pre-emi- 
nence, is derived from his invention of a new 
class in the nomenclature of Poetry. 

" Cooper's Hill," observes our great critic, 
" is the work that confers on Denham the 
rank and dignity of an original author. He 
seems to have been, at least among us, the 
author of a species of composition that may 
be denominated Local Poetry ; of which the 
fundamental subject is some particular Land- 
scape to be poetically described, with the 



LOCAL POETRY. 9 

addition of such embellishments as may be 
supplied by historical retrospection or inci- 
dental meditation." 

Thus, as the study of Homer's Iliad fur- 
nished Aristotle with his canons of criticism 
for the conduct of Heroic, so from Denham's 
" Cooper's Hill" have rules been deduced for 
the construction of Local Poetry. 

Under this generical term may be compre^ 
hended all manner of metrical Topography ; 
but this Essay will include only that species 
of it which gave rise to the denomination, 
viz. Poems which have Hills exclusively for 
their title, and circumjacent scenery for their 
objects. 

Few recreations are so exhilarating as to 



ascend some eminence 



And see the country tar diffus'd around 
One boundless blush, one white empurpled shower 
Of mingled blossoms, where the raptur'd eye 
Hurries from joy to joy." 

The origin of Mountains and Hills has been 
attributed to the operation of different causes. 



10 ESSAY ON 

Some Geologists ascribe them to volcanic 
eruptions; others to diluvial action, and some 
deem them of original formation, Enveloped in 
equal uncertainty is the boundary, where emi- 
nences lose the denomination of Hills, and 
assume the distinction of Mountains. Their 
utility and beauty are however indisputable. 
By their interception of vapours, they give rise 
to springs, fountains, and rivers. A view of 
them diversifies Landscapes, awes the mind, and 
exalts, whilst it interests, the imagination. 

" At Summer's eve when Heaven's aerial bow 
Spans with bright arch the glittering Hills below, 
Why to yon Mountain turns the musing eye, 
Whose sun-bright summit mingles with the sky ? 
Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear 
More sweet than all the Landscape smiling near ? 
'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, 
And robes the Mountain iu its azure hue. 
Thus with delight we linger to survey 
The promis'd joys of life's unmeasur'd way ; 
Thus from afar each dim-discover'd scene 
More pleasing seems than all the past hath been ; 
And every form, that Fancy can repair 
From dark oblivion, glows divinely there." 

Persons and Places owe their appellations te 



LOCAL POETRY. 11 

local altitude. The most ancient inhabitants of 
Greece were denominated Pelasgi, from living 
on the ridges of Thessaly, in the same manner 
as Highlanders are designated from their occu- 
pancy of the Hebrides. Palestine, which is 
generally deriv'd from Philistine, is of moun- 
tainous etymology. A greater degree of Local 
affection is manifested by the habitants of 
bleak and exposed situations, than by resi- 
dents in vallies. The Cottagers of Gaer-Hill, 
which is the apex of S el wood Forest, exem- 
plify this attachment. They quit their favor- 
ite spot with regret, and return to it with 
avidity. A departure, or return, is matter 
of condolence or congratulation to the patriar- 
chal community. I have witnessed, and been 
informed of, these symptoms of provincial 
predilection, in my rambles to that sylvan 
and secluded district. 

" Thus every good his native wilds impart, 
Imprints the patriot passion on his heart ; 
And e'en those hills that round his mansion rise., 
Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. 



12 ESSAY ON 

Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, 
And deai* that Hill which lifts him to the storms ; 
And as a child when scaring sounds molest, 
Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, 
So the loud torrent and the whirlwind's roar, 
But bind him to his native mountains more." 

Mountains and Hills carry with them at- 
tractions congenial to human feelings. They 
are frequent objects of visitation, and, in the 
progress of their ascent, disclose fresh apr 
pearances, and give rise to varied reflections. 

" The mountains lessening as they rise, 



Lose the low vales and steal into the skies ; 
While curling smokes from village tops are seen, 
And the fleet shades glide o'er the dusky green.*' 

On gaining their summits, a new train of 
ideas and feelings is generated by aerial lo- 
cality, and from giddy circumspection. 

" How oft upon yon eminence our pace 
Has slacken'd to a pause, and we have borne 
The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blew j 
While admiration, feeding at the eye, 
And still unsated, dwelt upon the scene." 

But the busy soul will not content itself with 
terrestrial objects. By a natural buoyancy it 



LOCAL POETRY. 13 

will ascend and wing its contemplations to the 
everlasting Creator. 

" 'Ere Mountains, Woods, or Streams adorn'd the Globe, 

Or Wisdom taught the sons of men her lore ; 

Then liv'd the Almighty One ; then deep-retir'd 

In His unfathom'd essence, view'd the forms, 

The forms eternal, of created things ; 

The radiant Sun, the Moon's nocturnal lamp, 

The Mountains, Woods, and Streams, the rolling Globe, 

And Wisdom's mien celestial. — 

Hence the green Earth and wild-resounding Waves, 

Hence light and shade alternate, warmth and cold, 

And clear Autumnal skies and vernal showers, 

And all the fair variety of things." 

On summits which mingle with the clouds, 
we seem to be in attendance on Deity, to 
"draw empyreal air;" to tread on the confines 
of a Temple not made with hands, eternal in 
the heavens. — 2 Cor. v. 1. The enraptured son 
of Beor exclaimed, from the top of the rocks 
I see Him, and from the Hills I behold Him. 
Numb, xxiii. 9. The sweet singer of Israel 
thus implores from Deity the honor of an 
earthly visitation ; bow Thy Heavens, O Lord, 
and come down ; touch the Mountains and they 



14 ESSAY ON 

shall smoke. — Ps. cxliv. 5. The supposition 
formerly prevailed that the Almighty resided 
in elevated situations : this is God's Hill, 
in vjhich it pleaseth Him to dwell; yea the 
Lord will abide in it for ever. — Ps. lxviii. 16. 
J will lift up mine eyes unto the Hills, from 
whence cometh my help. — Ps. cxxi. 1. I did 
call upon the Lord with my voice, and He 
heard me out of His holy Hill. — Ps. iii. 4. J 
will cause thee to ride upon the high places of 
the earth, and feed thee with the heritage of 
Jacob thy father, for the mouth of the Lord 
hath spoken it. — Is : lviii. 14. 

When the Almighty is represented dis^ 
playing His terror, the lofty places of the 
earth are in requisition to swell the language 
of inspiration: the mountains quake at Him, 
and the Hills melt. — Nahum i. 5. When 
thanksgiving was to be ofTered for protection 
and deliverance, the ransomed were to come 
and sing in the Height of Zion. — Jer. xxxi. 12. 
And when the inspired bard summons inani- 



LOCAL POETRY. 15 

mate objects to glorify the Creator, he 

breaks forth into the pathetic invocation, 

Mountains and all Hills praise the name of 

the Lord, for His name only is excellent and 

His praise above Heaven and Earth. — Ps : 

cxlviii. 9. — 12. 

Moral as well as Religious reflections may 

be deduced from the contemplation of Hills. 

Fame is described sitting on an eminence from 

whence she summons her votaries to glory, thro' 

panting exertions, whilst Infamy is represented 

in the valley of soft and voluptuous enjoyment. 
" Here Virtue's rough ascent, 
There Pleasure's flowery way." 
There is native and superinduced energy in 

Man to forego debasing indulgencies, and 
attain the heights of distinction; and moun- 
tainous steeps produce, by association, these 

moral reminiscences. 

" The Soul has power to climb 
To all the Heights sublime 

Of Virtue's towering Hill ; 
At whose low feet weak -warbling strays 
The scanty stream of human praise, 

A shallow trickling rill." 



16 ESSAY ON 

When the mind has been familiarized with 
sublimity, it will condescend to the cognizance 
of inferior circumstances ; it will survey the 
rallies beneath and glance on the objects be- 
yond them, carelessly shifting the view, 

" From house to house, from hill to hill, 
'Till contemplation has her fill." 

Curiosity is heightened into enthusiasm, and 
Sensibility, participates of rapture, when to 
beauties of nature and art, the landscape 
superadds memorials of ancient faith or monu- 
ments of valorous atchievement. The Bard 
avails himself of the occasions to seize subjects 
for song, which he will mould into form and 
vivify with the inspirations of Genius. 

The founder of Local Poetry no doubt 
experienced congeniality of sentiment when he 
traversed the eminence which he was des- 
tined to immortalize. 

" Sweetly on yon poetic Hill 
Strains of unearthly music breathe, 

Where Denham's spirit, hovering still, 
Weaves his wild harp's aerial wreath." 



LOCAL POETRY. 17 

What an assemblage of grand and interest- 
ing objects presented themselves to his select- 
ion ? At a distance he described the Metropo- 
litan Cathedral. In the opposite direction 
Windsor burst conspicuously on his view, the 
birth-place and dormitory of a race of Poten- 
tates. Space would be wanting were I 

" To recount those several Kings to whom 
It gave a cradle, and to whom a tomb." 

There too Edward III. instituted that order 
©f chivalry 

i ' Which foreign Kings and Emperors esteem 
The second honour to their diadem." 

In the valley winds the majestic Thames, 

" Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea, 
Like mortal life to meet Eternity." 

In a nearer point of view, he beheld Runny- 
mede spreading its verdant lawn, where in the 
year 1215 Liberty became the chartered inheri- 
tance of Barons, Clergy and Commonalty. 

However extraneous to the general purport 
of this Essay, yet not wholly unconnected with 



18 ESSAY ON 

this particular portion of it, is the expression 
of regret at our destitution of national monu- 
ments, to memorize important events, to illus- 
trate loyal attachment, and to kindle patriotic 
enthusiasm. However great Britain may rival 
more ancient nations in Literature and arms, 
yet is she exceeded by the Promethean fire of 
their Sculpture, and the imposing magnificence 
of their public edifices. The Parthenon at 
Athens, and the Coliseum at Rome, will leave 
no parallels in the posthumous history of 
England. Let our Monarch, Nobles, and 
rich Commoners, aggrandize their country by 
patronizing liberal arts. Let them emulate the 
fame by acting in the spirit of Augustus, who 
found Rome of brick and left it of marble. 
But to return to my subject. Why does not 
some ponderous column pierce the clouds 
from Runnymede, inscribed on one side with 
the declaration of the Barons, 

" Nolumus leges Angliae mutari," 
and on the reverse, with those matchless lines 



LOCAL POETRY. ]9 

of our bard, where Loyalty, Patriotism, and 
Poetry, strive for pre-eminence? 

"Here was that Charter sign'd, wherein the Crown 
All marks of arbitrary power laid down ; 
Tyrant and Slave, those names of hate and fear, 
The happier stile of King and subject bear ; 
Happy when both to the same centre move, 
When Kings give liberty, and subjects love." 

Such is the origin of Local Poetry, and 
such are the observations connected with its 
archetype. 

No wonder that Denham, with such fit and 

ample materials, constructed a fabric of verse 

of a new order, or that a style of poesy, which 

his imagination had planned, was accomplished 

by his genius. 

" Ye sacred nine, that all my soul possess, 

Whose raptures fire, and whose visions bless, 

Bear me, bear me, to sequester'd scenes, 

The bowery mazes and surrounding greens ; 

To Thames' banks, which frequent breezes fill, 

Or where ye Muses sport on Cooper's Hill. 

On Cooper's Hill eternal wreaths shall grow, 

While lasts the Mountain and while Thames shall flow. 

I seem thro' consecrated walks to rove, 

I hear soft music die along the grove ; 



20 ESSAY ON 

Led by the sound, I roam from shade to shade, 

By god-like Poets, venerable made : 

Here his first lays majestic Denham sung ; 

There the last numbers flow'd from Cowley's tongue. 

Since fate relentless stopp'd their heavenly voice 

No more the forest rings or groves rejoice. 

Who now shall charm the shades where Cowley strung 

His living harp, and lofty Denham sung ? 

But hark ! the groves rejoice, the forest rings ! 

Are these reviv'd?" 

It was to be expected that a new denomi- 
nation of verse, commencing under happy 
auspices, would prove the parent of a numer- 
ous progeny. The author of "the Fleece" 
succeeded Denham in the production of Local 
Poetry, by selecting an eminence of the Prin- 
cipality, as a subject for illustration. 

" Grongar Hill invite my song, 
Draw the landscape bright and strong ; 
Grongar, in whose mossy cells, 
Sweetly musing, Quiet dwells." 

Grongar Hill occupies a space between 
Cardigan and Llandilo. It overlooks the vale 
of Towy, admired for its beauty and distin- 
guished by its fruitfulness. The mountainous 
ramparts, by which it is environed, 



LOCAL POETRY. 21 

'" Withdraw their summits from the skies 
And lessen as the others rise." 

But the most interesting object in the land- 
Scape, is the fragment of a baronial fortress. 
How shall we account for the excitement of 
those sweetly-pensive feelings which accompany 
the contemplation of ruins? 

" To Time the praise is due ; his gradual touch 
Has moulder'd into beauty many a tower, 
Which, when it frown 'd with all its battlements, 
Was only terrible : and many a fane 
Monastic, which, when deck'd with all its spires, 
Serv'd but to feed some pamper'd Abbot's pride 
And awe the unletter'd vulgar." 

The Tourist will deviate from his path and 
traverse intricate recesses to discover a tottering 
edifice of olden times, whilst he will scarcely 
deign a look, or hint an enquiry, on contiguous 
mansions, which rear their crests in undimin- 
ished magnificence. 



" The stern grandeur of a gothic tower 



Awes us less deeply in its morning hour, 
Than when the shades of Time serenely fall 
On every broken arch and ivied wall ; 
The tender images we lov'd to trace, 
Steal from each year a melancholy grace." 



22 ESSAY ON 

The spectacle of castellated remains, revives 
too in the imagination festivals with cumbrous 
hospitality, and pastimes of chivalrous adventure. 

" Time has seen that lifts the low 
And level lays the haughty brow, 
Has seen this broken pile complete, 
Big with the vanity of state ; 
But transient is the smile of fate. 
A little rule, a little sway, 
A sunshine in a winter's day, 
Is all the proud and mighty have 
Between the cradle and the grave." 

" Grongar Hill " is the shortest of all Local 
Poems, but ranks in next gradation to " Cooper's 
Hill," not only in date, but popularity. In ac- 
cordance with the rule which has been pre- 
scribed by authority, the poet deals more in 
picturesque delineation, than in moral reflections. 

" Before me trees unnumbered rise, 

Beautiful in various dies : 

The gloomy pine, the poplar blue, 

The yellow beech, the sable yew ; 

The slender fir, that taper grows, 

The sturdy oak, with broad-spread boughs ; 

And beyond, the purple grove, 

Haunt of Phillis, Queen of Love." 



LOCAL POETRY. £3 

After this analysis of "Grongar Hill," it would 
be unreasonable to trespass on the reader's 
patience by additional citations or protracted 
criticism. A trial of its character has been 
instituted, and judgment pronounced by the 
president of an authoritative tribunal. 

" Grongar Hill " (observes Dr. Johnson) " is 
the happiest of Dyer's productions : it is not 
indeed very accurately written, but the scenes 
which it displays are so pleasing, the images 
which they raise so welcome to the mind, and 
the reflections of the writer so consonant to 
the general sense or experience of mankind, 
that when it is once read, it will be read again." 

Pass we on to the consideration of "Faringdon 
Hill," which was published in the year 1774, 
and reprinted in 1787. 

" To Faringdon's illustrious Hill, 
On which Parnassian dews distil, 

Ye southern Muses bend ; 
And there salute with proud acclaim, 
In him, who gave that Hill to Fame, 

The Poet and the Friend." 

C 2, 



24 ESSAY ON 

111 reviewing examples of pious and loyal 
exertions during a public crisis, the late Laureate 
presents himself to grateful recollection. His 
harp aroused timidity into effort, and rekindled 
the dying embers of patriotism. But my busi- 
ness with Mr. Pye is not in his elevation as the 
Lyric Bard, b«t in his privacy as a Local Poet. 
His " Faringdon Hill" is introduced with this 
glowing description : 

" Now with meridian force the orb of day, 
Pours on our throbbing heads his sultry ray. 
O'er the wide concave of the blue serene, 
No fleecy cloud or vapoury mist is seen ; 
The panting flocks and herds at ease reclin'd, 
Catch the faint eddies of the flitting wind ; 
To silence hush'd is every rural sound, 
And noon-tide spreads a solemn stillness round. 
Alike our languid limbs would now forsake 
The open meadow and the tangled brake ; 
Here Sol intensely glows, and there the trees 
Mix their thick foliage and exclude the breeze. 
Come let us quit these scenes aud climb yon brow, 
Yon airy summit where the zephyrs blow ; 
While waving o'er our heads the welcome shade 
Shuts out the sunbeams from the upland glade. 
No steep ascent we scale with feverish toil, 
No rocks alarm us and no mountains foil : 



LOCAL POETRY. £5 

TBut as we gently tread the rising green, 
Large and more large extends the spacious scene, 
'Till on the verdant top our labour crown'd, 
The wide horizon is oar only bound." 

The manly sentiments , which Mr. Pye has 
developed in his poem, do honour to his dis- 
cernment and patriotism. He dwells with 
animation on the benefit which results to the 
health and spirits by the hardy and congenial 
pleasures of the chace, and censures those 
effeminate Bards who vituperate athletic 
exercises: 

" Too much the enervate Bards of modern days, 
Attune to slothful ease their moral lays ; 
The seats of ancient lore their favourite theme, 
Lyceum's shade and hoary Academe ; 
Forgetful that the Stadium's hardy toil, 
The boxer's coestus and the wrestler's oil, 
Sent Grecia's heroes forth a vigorous train, 
,Learn'd in the schools and victors o'er the plain." 

As the prospect from Faringdon Hill com- 
prehends towns, mansions, and rivers, the 
Poet seizes these and other prominent objects 
in the landscape, and particularizes each variety 
in harmonious numbers. 



%0 ESSAY ON 

The life of our Poet was spared to a good 

old age, and he realized the fond expectation 

expressed in his Local Poem: — 

" And lovely Faringdon, my voice shall still, 

Or in thy groves, or on this healthful Hill, 

In rustic numbers sing the happy plains, 

Where Freedom triumphs and where Brunswick reigns." 

The fourth place in the series of Local 
Poems, is occupied by the "Lewesdon Hill" of 
the Rev. William Crowe, who holds a respect- 
able rank in elegant Literature. He received 
his early and matured education in the two 
St. Mary Colleges of Winton and Oxford, and 
is esteemed no unworthy pupil in the school 
of the Wartons. On induction to the Rectory 
of Stoke Abbas, he resided in the vicinity of 
Lewesdon Hill, which, had not his Muse selected 
it for celebration, would have remained undis- 
tinguished amongst the unsung promontories of 
that interesting region. This eminence is h> 
vested with plantations, but whether to the 
improvement or diminution of its beauty is 
matter of controversy. 



LOCAL POETRY. £7 

* l Does then the song forbid the planter's hand 
To clothe the distant hills and veil with wood 
Their barren summits ? No, it but forbids 
All poverty of clothing. Rich the robe, 
And ample let it flow, that virtue wears 
On her thron'd eminence." 

.Others deem, that Hills, like 

" loveliness, 

Need not the foreign aid of ornament ; 

But are when unadorn'd, adorn'd the most." 

Our Author represents himself ascending the 

summit of his Hill in the vernal season, his 

morning exercise. After expatiating with in^ 

genuity on 

*< The beauties of its woodland scene at each return of Spring," 

He condemns the taste which prefers Nature 

in her tendency to decay. 

" Some fondly gaze 

On fading colours and the thousand tints 
Which Autumn lays upon the varying leaf. 
I like them not, for all their boasted hues 
Are kin to sickliness ; mortal decay 
Is drinking up their vital juice ; that gone, 
They turn to sear and yellow. Should I praise 
Such false complexions and for beauty take 
A look consumption bred ? As soon, if grey 
Were mix'd in young Louisa's tresses brown, 
I'd call it beautiful variety, 
And therefore doat on her." 



28 ESSAYON 

When groves and woodlands are subjected 
to a change of foliage, we are entered upon a 
season which should be assimilated to the wan 
aspect of declining life, and which should con- 
sequently impress us with respect bordering on 
veneration. Similitude to " consumption/ 7 
which is premature decay, and to 



jrey 



Mix'd in young Louisa's tresses brown," 

furnish unapt, partial, and inadequate subjects 
of comparison with that period of the year 
when we 



1 " Catch the last smiles 

Of Autumn beaming in the yellow woods/' 

The rich variety and the soft gradation of 

tints in the old age of vegetation are calculated, 

in the opinion of an eminent and experienced 

Poet, to awaken mental energy and invigorate 

the Muse's inspirations : — 

" When Autumn's yellow lustre gilds the world, 
And tempts the fickle swain into the field, 
Seiz'd by the general joy, his heart distends 
With gentle throes, and thro' the tepid gleams 
Deep musing, then he best exerts his song.'' 



LOCAL POETRY. 29 

The description of the Rivulet which bubbles 
from the side of the Hill, abounds with passages 
of striking elegance and pathos : — 

" How soon thy infant stream will lose itself 
In the salt mass of waters, 'ere it grow 
To name or greatness ! yet it flows along 
Untainted with the commerce of the world, 
Nor passing hy the noisy haunts of men ; 
But thro' sequester'd meads, a little space 
Winds secretly, and in its wanton path 
May cheer some drooping flower, or minister 
Of its cold water to the thirsty lamb : 
Then falls into the ravenous sea, as pure 
As when it issued from its native hill." 

The name of Crowe has been long associated 
with ardent love of civil liberty. It is not 
therefore to be wondered, if he made part of 
his poem the vehicle of political sentiment by 
complimenting Washington on American In- 
dependence, and by sympathizing with Paoli 
on Corsican subjugation. It would extend this 
essay to an unwarrantable length were inquiries 
instituted into other parts of this ingenious 
production. Besides our attention is demanded 
to the consideration of another specimen of 
Local Poetry. 



30 ESSAY ON 

Foreigners of distinction, who visit our Coun- 
try, are usually conducted to Richmond Hill, 
in order to view from one spot the concentrated 
beauties of English Landscape. 

" Fair Groves and Villas glittering bright, 
Arise on Richmond's beauteous height j 
Where yet fond echo warbles o'er 
The Heaven-taught songs she learnt of yore.'' 

Is it not surprising that this enchanting 
eminence should have remained so many years 
without particular celebration ? The author of 
" Indian Antiquities" stept forward in 1807, to 
remove the opprobrium from the sons of song. 
Sheen was its ancient designation, which is 
expressive of elevation and conspicuity. It 
derived its present appellation from the Earl 
of Richmond, who gained the crown by victory 
in Bos worth Field, and mounted the Throne, 
as Henry VII. It is observed by Hollinshed in 
his Chronicon, that " the Kings of the Land 
being wearie of the City, used customarily 
thither to resorte as to a place of pleasure, and 
serving highly to their recreation." 



LOCAL POETRY. 31 

Henry V. founded a Monastery at Sheen, as 
well as a Nunnery at Sion, to expiate a foul 
murder, (such was the credulity of the times) 
through which he inherited the crown. Our 
dramatic Bard, who well knew to suit the word 
to the action, represents the King as resorting 
to pathetic deprecation, precedent to the battle 
of Agincourt: 



" not to day, O Lord, 



O not to day ! think thou upon the fault 

My Father made in compassing the crown. 

I, Richard's body have interr'd anew, 

And on it have bestow'd more contrite tears 

Than from it issu'd forced drops of blood. 

Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, 

Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold up 

Towards Heaven to pardon blood, and I have built 

Two Chauntries, where the sad and solemn Priests 

Still sing for Richard's soul." 

Richmond was the favoured residence of 
Queen Elizabeth. It was too the scene of her 
agonized death on discovering the Countess of 
Nottingham's treachery, which had consigned 
her Essex to the will of his enemies. 



32 ESSAY ON 

Thus, Richmond not only accumulates at- 
tractions of scenery, but is rich in such Historical 
reminiscences as are adapted for the develope- 
ment of talent and the application of reflections. 
That its delineation was assumed by competent 
talent will be proved by extract: 

" Loveliest of Hills that rise in glory round, 

With swelling Domes and glittering Villas crown'd ; 

For loftier tho' majestic Windsor tower, 

The richer Landscape's thine, the nobler bower. 

Imperial seat of ancient grandeur hail ! 

Rich diamond sparkling in a golden vale j 

Or vivid emerald, whose serener rays 

Beam mildly forth with mitigated blaze, 

And 'mid the splendors of an ardent sky, 

With floods of verdant light refresh the eye ; 

Richmond, still welcome to my longing sight, 

Of a long race of Kings, the proud delight ; 

Of old the sainted Sage, thy groves admir'd, 

When with devotion's hallow'd transport fir'd. 

From Sheen's monastic gloom thy brow he sought, 

And on its summit paus'd in raptur'd thought ; 

Stretch'd to the horizon's bound his ardent gaze, 

And hymn'd aloud the great Creator's praise." 

The costliness in which " Richmond Hill" 
was published, has precluded its merits from 
general diffusion. It is hoped that it will be 



LOCAL POETRY. 33 

re-printed in a form accessible to all the Lovers 
of Poetry. 

The last Poem in local classification is " Bid- 
combe Hill," which follows this dissertation. It 
derives its denomination from an eminence which 
forms one of the western boundaries of Salisbury 
Plain. Mr. Britton, in his interesting sketches 
of Wilts (which manifest topical skill for 
encouragement in an ampler undertaking) has 
delineated the scene of our effusion with his 
usual correctness. "To the eastward of Maiden- 
Bradley, rises the lofty insulated Hill which is 
known by the three different appellations of 
Cold Kitchen Hill, Brimsdon, and Bidcombe. 
This Hill displays many relics of British 
Antiquities, such as tumuli, ditches, and ex- 
cavations ; and is besides one of the most inter- 
esting eminences in Wiltshire, on account of 
the vast extent of the prospects which it com- 
mands. In addition to the rich beauties of 
Somersetshire and the plains of Wiltshire which 
are seen from its summit, Bidcombe Hill over- 



34 ESSAY ON 

looks some of the Dorsetshire Hills, including 
Shaftesbury and the adjacent Country." It 
might have been added that the remote Hills 
of Lewesdon and Pillesdon, near Bridport, are, 
in particular states of the atmosphere, clearly 
discernible. In short, the south-west view 

" Diffusive spreads the pure Dorsetian Downs 
In boundless prospect, yonder shagg'd with wood, 
Here rich with harvest, and there white with flocks.' ' 

We gather from competent authority, that 
in the reverse direction the Silurian Mountains 
may be descried. " This elevated point (the 
Sugar Loaf) rises 1852 feet perpendicular from 
the mouth of the Gavenny, and is seen from 
Bidcombe Hill, in the County of Wilts/'* — 

The prospect embraces on all sides a variety 
of proximate objects ; namely, the mansion and 
park of Longleat, Alfred's Tower, Glastonbury 
Tor, Fonthill Abbey, and embowered Villages. 
The volumes of dun smoke point out the site 

* Coxe's Monmouthshire, vol. I. 1%". 



LOCAL POETRY. 35 

of Frome-Selwood, renowned for its manufac- 
tures and for the liberality of its inhabitants. 
If Thomson had visited our neighbourhood, 
imagination would conjecture, that he sketched 
from this elevation the following description: 

" You gain the Height, from whose fair brow 



The bursting prospect spreads immense around, 

And stretch'd o'er Hill and Dale, and Wood and Lawn, 

And verdant field, and darkning heath between, 

And villages embosom'd soft in trees, 

And spiry Towns by surging columns mark'd 

Of household smoke, your eye excursive roams 

To where the broken Landscape, by degrees 

Ascending, roughens into rigid Hills, 

O'er which the Cambrian mountains, like far clouds 

That skirt the blue horizon, dusky rise." 

If the spectator's eye and fancy be gratified 
by multiplied curiosities of nature and art, how 
must the bosom glow and the imagination 
triumph under the influence of sacred associ- 
ations. An accomplished friend (who favoured 
the world with his letters from Palestine) 
resembled Bidcombe Hill, from the extent of 
its views and its sylvan declivities, to the Moun- 
tain of Lower Galilee, which has been the site 



36 ESSAY ON 

of grand exploits and the theatre of supernatural 
occurrences. As the visitor traverses our Wilt- 
shire eminence under the persuasion of its 
similitude, in particular instances, to Mount 
Tabor, his imagination will mingle in Barak's 
conflict, — muse on the strains of Deborah, — 
and enjoy ideal presence on the Hill of 
Transfiguration. 

During twenty-six years of clerical ministration 
in its neighbourhood, Bidcombe Hill has been 
the chief object of my walks and contemplations. 
The morn hath dawned upon me, when travers- 
ing its summit, 



Then is the time 



To soar above this little scene of things, 
And woo lone quiet in her silent walks." 

How frequently on Sabbath afternoons have I 
climbed its steep, that after explaining the volume 
of Inspiration, I might read the Book of Nature 
and study the magnificence of the Creation ! 

The shadows of evening have often overtaken 
me amidst its romantic solitudes. 



LOCAL POETRY. 3? 

te Then loves the eye that shrunk before the day, 
To seek refreshment from the Moon's pale ray ; 
When modest Cynthia, clad in silver light, 
Expands her beauty on the brow of night — 
Sheds her soft beams upon the mountain's side, 
Peeps thro' the wood and quivers thro' the tide." 

If brilliancy of prospect and the solemnity of 
holy associations have imparted entertainment to 
the fancy, cheerfulness to the spirits, and gran- 
deur to the soul, so the attempt to give per- 
manency to these impressions has furnished 
occasions of diversified relaxation, I adopt and 
apply the sentiment of a Precursor — 



If 1 can be to thee 



A Poet, thou Parnassus art to me." 

If there should be transferred to the reader 
of the Poem a portion of the pleasure which 
accompanied the rise, progress, and accomplish- 
ment of its composition, I shall not in vain have 
aspired to be enrolled amongst the topographical 
Bards of my Country. — Fifteen years have 
elapsed since the Poem of Bidcombe Hill was 
introduced to public reception. The interval 



58 ESSAY ON 

has not expired without attempts at improve- 
ment. Excursions to the Hill have given rise 
to new delineations. Meditation and scrutiny 
have subjected its inequalities to carefulness of 
revision. Imperfection of design and inadequacy 
of execution, will however mark the performances 
of those who have been most studious to remedy 
or avoid them. The Reader is solicited to 
extend to the new edition the canon of critical 
courtesy, 



non ego paucis 



Offendar maculis, quas aut incuria fudit 
Ant humana parurn cavit Natura." 

I desire that suitable acknowledgments be 
accepted by those Poets who complimented the 
first impression, in numbers superior to the 
effusion which they dignified by their approval. 
Importunity to produce these testimonials would 
have been altogether resisted, had not the per- 
suasion of friends been reinforced by recom- 
mendations and examples. The distinguished 
author of the " Night Thoughts" asserts — 

. " There is in Poesy a decent pride 

Which well becomes her." 



LOCAL POETRY. 39 

A deceased authoress observed, that " the 
Bard like the Warrior is privileged to display 
the trophies he had won." The descriptive 
Poet of " the Village/' interested the public 
opinion in his delineation of rural manners, by 
adducing the critical suffrage of the sagacious 
Johnson. If adepts in the art of Poetry both 
recommended and exhibited proofs of literary 
approbation as passports to renown, an inferior 
Bard may be permitted to shelter his com- 
position from obloquy under the mantle of 
friendship. The following lines bearing date 
November 5, 1808, were the impromptu effusion* 
of a Dignitary well known and appreciated by 
the literary world for the variety and importance 
of his productions: — 

" Denham, a Poet of no common fame 1 , 
A local habitation and a name 
First gave to Poesy. His fancy drew 
In mimic colours and perspective hue, 
The varied Landscape that from Cooper's height, 
Floats indistinct and charms the dazzled sight. 
What tho' his earthly tabernacle lies 
In the lone tomb, the Poet never dies. 
His Muse survives, his Spirit warms us still, 
And Bidcorabe's Height shall rival Cooper's Hill/' 
D2 



40 ESSAY ON 

May I be permitted to record the hope that 
Bidcombe Hill will not prove the last effort 
in this line of composition ? There are literate 
Gentlemen, who have occasions presented to 
them in the localities of their residence for 
occupation of leisure hours on similar under- 
takings. Materials cannot be wanting, as our 
Empire is as fertile in subjects, as it is abundant 
in Hills. 

From Hampstead Hill might be described 
every interesting circumstance connected with 
the Metropolis, and all the classical objects in 
its vicinity. 

Numerous are the subjects and incidents 
which would be suggested by contemplating 
from Brandon Hill the salubrious heights, rocks, 
vale and springs of Clifton, and by surveying 
on the other hand the antiquities of the com- 
mercial city which is the birth-place of Chat- 
terton. 

The adventures of Arthur; the ancient Temple 
of Minerva ; the fountains of the Sun, designa- 



LOCAL POETRY. 41 

ted aquse solis by Antonine, and vSoltol deqftOL 
by Ptolemy; the battle of Lansdown; Prior 
Park ; Claverton, with other historical and 
topical associations, crowd on the sight and 
imagination of the spectator, whilst traversing 
Hampton Hill, near Bath, the " Mons Badoni- 
cus" of Antiquity. 

A commanding Eminence, in the neighbour- 
hood of Swindon, exhibits a circular fortification 
of Danish original. The White Horse on the 
chalky declivity, and the town of Wantage in 
the vale, designate the banner and birth-place 
pf Alfred. Upon the range of Hills are a 
Roman eilcampment, a Saxon earth-work, and 
a tumulus environed by a Druidical circle. 
Ingenuity might find in these and other adven- 
titious circumstances, materials for a Poem of 
Badbury Hill. 

The Island of Athelney, where Alfred was 
secreted from the Danes ; King's Sedgmoor, 
which was the scene of Monmouth's discom- 
£ture ; the monument which was raised by the 



42 ESSAY ON 

immortal Chatham to the memory of Sir William 
Pynsent; the globular prominences of Montacute 
with its quarries, fossils, and entrenchments ; 
Cheddar Cliffs and the Cavern at Wookey ; 
obtrude themselves upon the sight or recollection 
from Polden Hill, in the neighbourhood of 
Bridgwater. 

I would have some Poet select a Hill in 
the neighbourhood of Camerton, which has 
been conjectured, on no slight grounds, to be 
the Camelodunum of Tacitus. I am aware that; 
Camden hath assigned the Roman Colony of 
Camelodunum to Maldon, in Essex, but its 
derivation from Cam, a River, and Dune, a 
Down, has no topical application to Maldon ; 
but is connected with Camerton both in position 
and etymology. It were easy to deduce from 
the accounts of the Latin Annalist, other assi- 
milations in confirmation of the hypothesis, but 
I forbear to anticipate the discoveries of an 
indefatigable Antiquary and Local Historian.— 
In addition to beautiful and diversified scenery of 



LOCAL POETRY. 43 

hill, dale, and water, Camerton presents in its 
vicinity to the Roman pavement at Wellow, to the 
sepulchral cavern near Littleton, to the Druid- 
ical circle at Stanton, and to other British, 
Belgic, and Roman remains, matter for copious 
and interesting illustrations. Dunkerton and 
Farmborough Hills offer themselves as rival 
titles, for the Poet's selection. 

Within the demesne of Highclere, Hants, 
Siddon Hill commands extensive views over 
six Counties, and embraces suitable subjects 
for description. Windsor Castle, and in the 
opposite direction the Isle of Wight, with many 
intermediate objects may be discriminated. The 
mansion below was originally built and occa- 
sionally inhabited by William of Wykeham. The 
lakes in the park add variety to the landscape, 
by their agreeable glitter amongst woods and 
forest trees. The fires which announced an 
enemy's approach once blazed on a contiguous 
but inferior height, and hence designated Beacon 
Hill. Newbury stands at a short distance., 



44 ESSAY ON 

where obstinate and indecisive battles were 
fought in the civil wars. Donnington, no less 
than the preceding objects, is of poetical attrac- 
tion from Siddon Hill, on account of its cas- 
tellated ruins, as well as for its association with 
the name of Chaucer, 

" Whose native manners — painting verse, 
Well moraliz'd, shines thro' the gothic cloud 
Of time and language." 

Who will deny to Siddon Hill poetical capa- 
bilities ? Who can forbear exclaiming with the 
Poet of Nature — - 

A Heavens ! what a goodly prospect spreads around, 
Of Hills, and Dales, and Woods, and Lawns, and Spires, 
And glittering Towns and gilded Streams." 

Leith Hill, near Dorking, is the most con- 
spicuous elevation in the County of Surrey. 
It comprehends in its range of prospect the 
Southdowns of Sussex, and detached portions 
of the Shires of Berks, Oxford, and Hants. 
Through an aperture the sea presents itself, to 
diversify and aggrandize the prospect. Its 



I 



LOCAL POETRY. 46 

eastern side is marked with ancient castrame- 
taiions. Situated in the same hundred is Box 
Hill, which the Poet will incorporate with 
objects worthy of enumeration. The River 
Mole is a lively object beneath it, and the yew 
trees and box-wood which grace its steeps, 
interest by their variation or awe by their solem- 
nity. So pure and balmy is the atmosphere of 
the region, that a neighbouring town has been 
complimented as the Montpelier of England. 

Dennis, who is proverbial for critical fas- 
tidiousness, and whose severity was equalled by 
his acumen, preferred Leith Hill, on account 
£>f its prospects, to the Pyrennees, to the heights 
of Tivoli, and to the mountain Viterbo. He 
thus concludes his panegyric : — " When I saw 
at two miles distance that side of Leith Hill 
which faces the North Downs, it appeared the 
most jbeautiful prospect I had ever seen ; but 
after we conquered the Hill itself, I saw a sight 
that looked like enchantment and vision, but 
vision beatific," ; See Letters, vol. I. p. 30. 



46 ESSAY ON 

After such eulogy, who will say, that LeiAi 
Hill should not be consecrated to the service 
of the Muses ? 

Flamstead Hill, in Hertfordshire, has been 
represented by Goldsmith as a place ■" than 
where Nature never exhibited a more magni^ 
ficent prospect." Upon its Bard must devolve 
the duty of selection and delineation. To me 
it appertains, to solicit notice to those curiosities 
of art and its appendages, which the neighbour- 
hood supplies and History commemorates. 

The ruins subsist of a House at Gorhambury, 
where Lord Chancellor Bacon resided, whose 
character furnishes an example of the pre- 
eminence of Genius and its moral degradation. 
The votaries of Superstition used to resort to 
Redbourne, for charms and incantations at the 
grate of Amphibalus. At Wenmer is a Brook, 
whose rising waters are said to portend public 
calamity. Berkampstead is noted for the con r 
clave where William the Conqueror swore to 
the guardianship of Englishmen's rights and pri~ 



LOCAL POETRY. 47 

vileges, which he subsequently infringed and 
violated. Many battles were fought in this 
neighbourhood between the houses of York 
and Lancaster. Abbot's Langley, Nicholas 
Breakspeare was born, who was raised to the 
pontificate as Hadrian the Fourth : his stirrup 
was held by Frederick, Emperor of the Romans. 
But the chief object of local interest is the 
History of St. Alban, the proto-martyr of 
Britain. It was a story of general credit, that 
the executioner was stricken with blindness 
whilst depriving him of life. In the year 79<5, 
Offa, King of Mercia, built a monastery over 
St. Alban's sepulchre, and granted to it by 
royal authority, and gained for it from the 
courtesy of Rome, singular rights and exemp- 
tions. Vestiges of Watling-street, and the ruins 
of Verulam, exist near the town of St. Alban. 
As our most distinguished Antiquary # has 
remarked that no county in England can in the 

* Camden. 



48 ESSAY ON 

same space boast of so many antiquities as Hert- 
fordshire, there can be no doubt but that many 
additional circumstances might be discovered by 
investigation, and incorporated in a Poem of 
Flamstead Hill. 

No Traveller can pass over Frocester Hill, 
in the County of Gloucester, without an acknow- 
ledgment of its adaptation to the purposes of 
Poetry. On one side stands Beverstone Castle, 
a venerable ruin, once the property of the 
Berkeleys. To the left we cast our eyes on 
Uley, a vale not unworthy of comparison with 
the Thessalian Tempe. The neighbouring 
Village of Woodchester affords appropriate scope 
for a description of Roman Villas. Indeed the 
researches and minute details of a late distin- 
guished and native Antiquary, leave no duty to 
the Poet but the pleasing art of versification and 
embellishment. 

Berkeley Castle is too well known in History, 
not to present curious incidents for the descant 
of the Local Bard : — 



LOCAL POETRY. 4Q 

<l Mark the year and mark the night, 

When Severn shall re-echo with affright : 

The shrieks of death thro' Berkeley's roof that ring, 

Shrieks of an agonizing King." 

The peninsula of Fretherne is connected, at 
least by tradition, with the early and innocent 
days of fair Rosamond. The Severn, the second 
River of Great Britain, is seen in its widest 
expanse, and backed as it is with the Welch 
Mountains, is the grandest object in the Land- 
scape. And here no doubt the Poet will take 
up the legend of Sabrina, who was changed into 
a sea nymph in the extremity of her distress : 

" There is a gentle Nymph, not far from hence, 

That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream j 

Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure. 

She, guiltless damsel ! flying the mad pursuit 

Of her enraged stepdame Guendolen, 

Commended her fair innocence to the flood, 

That staid her flight with his cross-flowing course. 

The water nymphs that in the bottom play'd, 

Held up her pearled wrists and took her in, 

Bearing her strait to aged Nereus' hall. 

Made Goddess of the River, still she retains 

Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve 

Visits her herds along the twilight meadows, 

Helping all urchin blasts and ill-luck signs.' r 



56 



ESSAY ON 



There seems to exist a similarity between 
Sabrina and Anna Perenna, sister of Dido, who 
to escape from iEneas and Achates, precipitated 
herself into the stream of Numicius, of which 
she became the Protectress. 

" Placidi sum Nympha Numici, 

Amne parenne latens, Anna Perenna vocor." 

Further information may be procured on the 
subject of Sabrina, from the sixth song of 
Drayton's Polyolbion, from the tenth canto and 
second book of Spenser's Faerie Queen, and 
from Milton's History of England. By illus- 
trating the legend with its moral, the Bard may 
suitably conclude a Poem to be denominated 
from the delightful elevation of Frocester. 

Travellers who make the tour of Wales, can 
scarcely fail of visiting the Kymin Hill, and of 
expressing an opinion how well adapted are the 
surrounding views and objects for poetical em- 
bellishment. It is an extraordinary but un- 
accountable fact, that the Principality does not 
furnish native Bards in number and degree 
adequate to reasonable expectation. It is the 



LOCAL POETRY. 51 

Land of Mountains, Vallies, and Rivers : it is 
enriched with precious monuments of antiquity. 
Scarcely a picturesque spot exists without the 
accompaniment of castellated or monastic re- 
mains : 

" In the full prospect yonder Hill commands, 
O'er barren heaths and cultivated plains, 

The vestige of an ancient Abbey stands, 
Close by a ruin'd Castle's rude remains." 

There is scarcely a Moor but is memorable 
for discomfiture or victory, in contests with 
Roman or Saxon invaders. It is the Land 

too of Bards and Druids. It is the Country 
of Merlin, Anetuin, and Taliesin, 

" Hail, thou Harp of Phrygian fame ! 

In years of yore that Camber bore 
From Troy's sepulchral flame ; 

With ancient Brute to Britain's shore 
The mighty Minstrel came. 

Sublime upon the burnish'd prow, 

He bade the manly notes to flow ; 
Britain heard the descant bold ; 

She flung her white arms o'er the seaj 
Proud in her leafy bosom to unfold 

The freight of Harmony." 



5 C 2 ESSAY ON 

With the exception of the Bard of FlimstO'fo/ 

no indigenous Poet has sprung up within 

memory in a Land once honoured with the 
presidency of the Muses. It is to be hoped 

that the revival of Bardic institutions and anni- 
versaries, under distinguished patronage, will 
arouse the dormant genius of Cambria, and that 
odes in every variety of measure will appear, 
enriched with numberless tales of prowess and 
mythology. In the mean time it were to be 
wished that some native Minstrel would try his 
powers on Kymin HilL 

" Mona on Snowdon calls : 
Hear, thou King of Mountains hear ; 

Hark, she speaks from all her strings j 

Hark, her loudest echo rings ; 
King of Mountains, hend thine ear : 
But to thee no ruder spell 
Shall Mona use, than those that dwell 
In music's secret cell, and lie 
Steep'd in the stream of Harmony." 

If collateral inducements be necessary to 

stimulate the descendants of Celtic ancestors 

to poetical enthusiasm, let them look to 

the kindred land of Scotia, and from the 



LOCAL POETRY. 53 

Well-earned celebrity of the authors of "the 
Minstrel," the " Cotter's Saturday Night/' and 
of "the Queen's Wake/' be patriotically in- 
spired to sing the graces of their native vales > 
and the scenery and interests of their romantic 
Hills. 

When the History of Winchester and its 
vicinity are considered in their ramifications, 
accompaniments, and interests, few sites could 
offer fitter subjects for the Muse, than Catherine 
Hill. It has indeed cursorily engaged metrical 
attentions, but not to an extent and notoriety, 
as to supersede ampler details and more ela- 
borate composition. The latin celebration of 
Catherine Hill by Warton is not, it is to 
be apprehended, so generally known as its 
excellencies deserve. 

" Aerii Catherina jugi, qua vertice summo 
Danorum veteres fossas, immania castra, 
Et circumduct! servat vestigia valli ; 
Wiccamicae mos est pubi celebrare paloestras 
Multiplices, passimque levi contendere lusu 
Festa dies quoties rediit." 
E 



54 ESSAY ON 

The other poetical eulogy on Catherine Hill 
was composed as a scholastic exercise from 
the thesis, "nil est jucundum nisi quod re- 
ficit varietas." The manuscript has been 
submitted to my inspection by a neighbour- 
ing friend. It bears date 1728, with the 
signature " Lowth e Schol : Winton," and 
bears prognostications of that spirit and ge- 
nius which shone with brighter effulgence in 
his translation of "the choice of Hercules," 
and in his masterly prelections on Hebrew 
Poetry. 

" Shall no sublimer Muse thy Mountain grace, 
O Catherine, thou delight of Wykeham's race ? 
Shall no young Bard once try to speak thy praise, 
And sing of thee on which so oft hs plays ? 
Justly does this low verse to thee belong, 
Pleasure the theme, variety the song." 

The first object of consideration suggested by 
an excursion to the Height of Catherine, is the 
Saint from whom it derives its sanctity and 
appellation. The legend of her marriage to 
the infant Saviour has been a frequent subject 



LOCAL POETllY. 55 

with the Painter, and as it allegorically repre- 
sents the consecration of her life and person to 
the services of the Redeemer* it becomes a fine 
subject for poetical configuration. 

The next attention will be directed to the 
City of Winchester, described both by Ptolemy 
and Antonine as " Venta Belgarum." 

" But see her head, unhappy Winton rears, 

Torn with war's havoc and the length of years ; 

Yet once, O Catherine, did thy city spread 

Round thee her walls, and round the world her dread." 

The Belgick history of our City will obtain but 
brief notification, from the obscurity of its 
annals. That it was a place of note during the 
Roman occupancy of Britain, is evident from its 
termination in chester, which is characteristical, 
according to Latin etymology, of strength and 
security. Invasion of our Country by Roman 
Legions was the primary step towards the civi- 
lization of our barbarous forefathers. The 
partial introduction of law, arts, coinage, archi- 
tecture, tactics, fruits, and of better modes of 

cultivating the soil, furnished the rudiments of 

E 2 



56 ESSAY ON 

our present accommodations, comforts, and 

aess. 

" Hasc est in gremium victos quae sola recepit 
Humanunque genus comnmni nomine fovit, 
Matris non Dominae ritu ; civesque vocavit 
Quos domuit, nexuque pio longinqua revinxit, 
Armorum legumque Parens." 

The interesting period of Saxon Annals should 
be adequately described, embracing topics con- 
nected with the exploits of the immortal Alfred. 
When the Poet descends to local particulars, 
the venerable Cathedral will offer itself to notice, 
in its stile of architecture, and from Royal and 
Priestly Worthies who honoured it by their 
devotions or interment. 

The Poet might also descant on the horrors 
of the grand Rebellion, as its chapel and orna- 
ments are imprest with puritanical mutilation 
and sacrilege. The Bard might aggrandize his 
description by the language of Inspiration: 
" They break down all the carved work thereof 
with axes and hammers. They have set fire 
upon thy holy places : and have defiled the 



LOCAL POETRY. 57 

dwelling-place of thy name, even unto the ground ; 
yea they said in their hearts, let us make havoc of 
them altogether: thus have they burnt up all 
the houses of God in the land." Ps. lxxiv. 
7, 8, 9. These circumstances have not es- 
caped the notice of our youthful and indignant 
Bard. 

" Then too her sacred rites she saw profan'd, 
When Charles was exil'd and the Tyrant reign'd ; 
Her plunder'd shrines the common fate partake, 
And fall for Charles' and Religion's sake." 

Monarchy and Religion have in this Country 
gone hand in hand, and all attempts to under- 
mine their foundations should be resisted by the 
Divine, the Moralist, the Politician, and the 
Poet. 

If personages, celebrated for their learning 
and piety, be desiderated to complete the cha- 
racter of a Local Poem, Winchester offers to 
notice her St. S within and her William of Wyke- 
ham. If a Landscape be incomplete for de- 
scription without the adjunct of water, — 

" Deep in the vale along the Mountain's side, 
The peaceful Itehin's gentle waters glide." 



58 ESSAY ON 

But there is one topic connected with Catherine 
Hill beyond most other subjects interesting: 
it was on this spot that a youth expressed the 
poignancy of his feelings, when left at school 
during the holidays, the victim of solitude and 
destitution. Whose heart does not respond to 
the accents of grief from the Wiccamical song 
of <c Domum, Domum, dulce Domum ?" 

I consider that a Poem, embracing these and 
other articles under the title of Catherine Hill, 
is a desideratum which should be supplied by 
the author of " Monody on the Death of 
Warton:" 



Every breeze 



On Itchin's banks was melody ; the trees 
Wav'd in fresh beauty ; and the wind and rain 
That shook the battlements of Wykeham's fane, 
Not less delighted when with random pace 
I trod the cloister'd aisles : and witness thou, 
Catherine, upon whose foss-encircled brow 
We met the morning, how I lov'd to trace 
The prospect spread around, the rills below 
That shone irriguous in the fuming plain ; 
The river's bend where the dark barge went slow, 
And the pale light on yonder time-worn fane." 



LOCAL POETRY. 5§ 

If the nominated Bard should decline a con- 
genial task for which he is pre-eminently fitted, 
the hope will be indulged, that from the genius 
of some other Scholar of Warton, Catherine Hill 
may be destined to occupy distinction among 
the topographical Poems of our Nation. 

Perhaps Alma Mater will supply a Bard 
to illustrate the subjects which on all sides 
arrange themselves from Shotover Hill. The 
first, as the most contiguous object for our Poet, 
would be Forest Hill, whence Milton has been 
supposed to derive embellishments for his 
Poem of L ? Allegro ; 

" Strait mine eye hath caught new pleasure*, 
Whilst the Landscape round it .measures 
Russet lawns and fallows gray. 
Where the nibling flocks do stray ; 
Mountains on whose barren breast 
The labouring clouds do often rest ; 
Meadows trim with daisies pied, 
Shallow brooks and rivers wide ; 
Towers and battlements it sees, 
Bosom'd high in tufted trees." 

William Julius Mickle, who made Camoens Ms 



60 ESSAY ON 

own, by his spirited version of the Lusiad, lived 
and was buried at Forest Hill, and should call 
forth a sigh as well as a commemoration. His 
remains lay under a turf which memory only 
fixed as the site of his last repository. To 
Supply in some degree unaccountable neglect, 
some members of the adjacent University 
proposed to inscribe a tablet to his memory, 
and the author of this essay furnished, by desire, 
a few encomiastic verses. 

" Who would not sing for Lycidas ? he knew 
Himself to sing and build the lofty rhyme. 
He must not welter to the parching wind, 
Without the meed of some melodious tear." 

Accordingly the following lines were produced 
to conclude an epitaph: — 

Ye Friends of Genius turn your wondering eyes 
To the lone sod where slighted Mickle lies. 
No sculptur'd stone his sacred relics guard, 
Who brought to light the Lusitanian Bard. 
Lo ! pitying strangers recognise his fame, 
Record his skill and consecrate his name. 
" Dignum laude virum Musa vetat mori." 

Whether knowledge of the determination reached 



LOCAL POETRY. 6l 

the ears of surviving relatives, or awakened 
feeling suggested the impropriety of neglect, 
the generous intentions of his admirers were 
intercepted ; and a humble memorial at length 
tells the visitor of Forest Hill, 

" In yonder grave a Druid lies.'* 
At the foot of Shotover Hill was formerly a 
favourite Promenade for Academics, called " the 
Divinity Walk." Its desertion was occasioned' 
by the tragical end of a lovely young woman, 
who was there murdered and buried. Her 
spectre was long said to haunt the scenes of her 
misfortune and death. Lucy's grave would 
offer to the Local Poet a narrative of interest 
and sensibility. But a tale of superior interest 
and importance is furnished by the recollections 
which arise from a view of Godstow. Here fair 
Rosamond resided in her youthful days, and 
hither was she brought for interment after falling 
the victim of conjugal jealousy. A tomb was 
constructed for her of curious workmanship, 
and according to Ranulph Higden, embellished 



62 ESSAY ON 

with ornamental devices: — " Cista ejusdem 

puellae vix bipedalis mensurae, sed admirabilis 

architecture cernitur, in qua conflictus pugilum, 

gestus animalium, volatus avium, saltus piscium 

absque hominis impulsu conspiciumtur." 

It was decorated with lamps, and bore the 

following inscription : 

" Hie jacet in Tumba Rosa mundi, non Rosa munda, 
Non redolet sed olet quae redolere solet." 

This monument occupied a conspicuous plac§ 

in the Chapel, till its abrupt and dictatorial 
expulsion to the cloisters, by the visiting and 
indignant Diocesan. The Religionist and An- 
tiquary grieve that the Chapel with its cemetry 
has long been desecrated by common uses, and 
will soon leave no vestiges of its existence, 
unless its progress to demolition be arrested by 
speedy reparation. Other topics may be incor- 
porated into a Poem, designated from the 
Height of Shotover. 

Why should I mention Blenheim, containing 
the national monument of Marlborough's glory, 



LOCAL POETRY. 63 

and Nuneham, where Harcourt patronized 
Poetry, and Mason illustrated the horticultural 
lessons of his ingenious Muse ? Why should 
I mention Cumner, rendered peculiarly inter- 
esting by the Romance of Kenilworth, and by 
the beautiful Ballad from which the following 
stanzas are extracted: — 

<( The dewes of Summer night did falle, 
The Moon (swete Regente of the sky) 

Silver'd the walles of Cumnor Halle, 
And manye an oake that grew thereby. 

And nought was herde beneath the skyes, 
(The soundes of busie life was stille) 

Save an unhappie Ladies sighes, 
That issued from that lonelye pile. 

Thus sore and sad that Ladie griev'd, 
In Cumnor Halle so lone and dreare ; 

And many a heartefelte sighe she heav'd, 
And let fall manie a bitter teare. 

And 'ere the dawn of daye appear'd, 
In Cumnor Halle so lone and dreare ; 

Full many a piercing screame was herde, 
And manie a cry of mortal feare. 

The death-belle thrice was herde to ring ; 

An aerial voice was herde to call ; 
And tbrice the raven fiapp'd his wyng 

Around the tow'rs of Cumnor Halle." 



64 ESSAY ON 

But the grandest features in the Landscape from 
Shotover Hill, are the Groves, Schools, and 
Worthies of the University which was founded 
by the immortal Alfred. " Movemur nescio quo 
pacto, locis ipsis in quibus eorum quos diligimus 
aut admiramur adsunt vestigia. Me quidem 
ipsa? nostras Athena?, non tarn operibus mag- 
nifies exquisitisque antiquorum artibus delec- 
tant, quam recordatione summorum virorum, ubi 
quisque habitare, ubi sedere, ubi disputare sit 
solitus." 

It must be attributed to neglect rather than 
to want of materials, if the public be not 
favoured with an addition to Local Poems by 
the composition of Shotover Hill. 

Honhead Hill, near Mendip, solicits next 
attention for poetical celebration. Its ascent is 
enlivened by the glitter of streams issuing from 
native fountains, and forming in their expe- 
ditious junction a rivulet of usefulness and 
beauty. In Roman mythology, fountains con- 
stituted a subject for apotheosis. Horace ad- 



LOCAL POETRY* 65 

dressed his thirteenth ode to his Sabine Spring, 

and engages to it the sacrifice of a kid. 

" O fons Blandusise splendidior vitro 
Dulci digne mero, non sine floribus 
Cras donaberis haedo." 

Nymphs presided over fountains and rills, and 
festivals were celebrated to their honour under 
the title of " Fontinalia." The fancy of a 
classical and enthusiastic visitor to the seques- 
tered waters of Donhead Hill, might figure a 
Naiad with a veil on her head and an urn in 
her hand, enjoining silence to the intruder: — 

" Hujus Nympha loci, sacri custodia fontis, 
Dormio, dum blandae sentio murmur aquae : 

Parce meum, quisquis tangis cava marmora, somnum 
Rumpere ; sive bibas, sive lavere, tace." 

"Nymph of the Grot, these sacred springs I keep, 
And to the murmur of these waters sleep ; 

Ah ! spare my slumbers, gently tread the cave, 
And drink in silence, or in silence lave." 

It is recorded by Gildas, that the ancient 
Britons, among other inanimate objects, wor- 
shipped high places and waters ; and who can 
tell but that our pagan forefathers paid to this 



66 ESSAY/ ON 

very Hill and Fountain their unhallowed 
adorations ? 

The Elevation subsists in the rude state 
of Nature, abounding with fern and 
" Blossom 'd furze unprofitably gay." 

A secret but pleasurable sensation of Liberty- 
is excited by traversing uninterrupted regions, 
and from contemplating Nature in an expan- 
sion of wilderness. The air is pure, or fragrant 
with herbs and flowers ; the ear is more acutely 
sensible to rural sounds and melodies ; and the 
imagination revels without restraint or satiety 
amidst Arcadian and simple enjoyments. The 
general face of the Country has undergone 
distortion by the formality of Inclosures. 

" Those fenceless Fields the sons of wealth divide, 
And e'en the bare-worn Common is denied." 

To pass over instances of every day's expe- 
rience, Sherwood Forest, which comprehended 
in its glades and overshadowing foliage the finest 
scenery in the land, and interested by adven- 
tures of olden time, is disrobed of its beauty 



LOCAL POETRY. 6? 

and magnificence, without repaying the ex- 
pences of its spoliation. 

*' When shaws beene sheene, and shrads full fayre, 

And leaves both large and longe ; 
Itt is merrye walking in the fayre forrest, 

To heare the small birde's song. 

The woodweele sang and wold not cease, 

Sitting upon the spraye, 
Soe lowde, he waken'd Robin Hood, 
In the greenwood where he lay.» 

Even the village wastes, on which rustic sports 
and May-day gambols were exercised, are in- 
fringed by cupidity. 

" Amidst its bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, 
And desolation saddens all the green." 

But Inclosures have diminished patriotism, 
for they have abridged the peasant's comforts 
and wounded his sensibility, by depriving his 
cow and ewe-lamb of gratuitous pasturage. 
In the same spirit of avarice or necessity, the 
features of rural Landscapes have been deformed 
by the destruction of Timber trees, so that 

" The country blooms a garden and a grave." 



68 ESSAY OK 

However lamentations on these topics may be 
construed by the political economist, they are 
suggested by the aspect of an unencumbered 
territory, and form interesting notices for Poesy. 
In addition to views of Glastonbury and 
Alfred's Tower, in a higher degree of prox- 
imity and beauty than are presented by pre- 
viously enumerated eminences, Donhead Hill 
exhibits to the Muse peculiar attractions, 
Mendip Lodge., Barley- Wood, and Ammerdown, 
awaken recollections of taste, piety, and rural 
improvement. A whitened Steeple, tapering 
amidst the dense wood-land, consecrates as it 
were the Landscape, and kindles sacred asso- 
ciations. From no spot so much as from this 
height do Bidcombe and Cley Hills awe by 
their grandeur, or Gaer and Postlebury Hills 
delight by their loveliness. In the neighbouring 
village of Witham Friary, flourished the first 
Carthusian Monastery in Britain, built and 
endowed by Henry II, to the honour of the 
virgin. If the Protestant descendants of this 



LOCAL POETRY, 69 

district die, "unhouseled unanointed," they do 
not go out of the world " unaneiled," the bell 
still denoting, according to conventual custom, 
the moment of dissolution, and the sex or pro- 
fession of the departed. " Verum aliquo mo- 
riente, campanae debent pulsari, ut populus haec 
audiens oret pro illo. Pro muliere quidem bis, 
pro eo quod ipsa invenit asperitatem. Primd 
enim fecit hominem alienum a Deo, quare 
secunda dies non habuit benedictionem. Pro 
viro ver6 ter pulsatur quia primo inventa est in 
homine Trinitas ; primo enim formatus est 
Adam de Terra, deinde Mulier ex Adam, 
postea homo creatus est ab utroque, et ita est 
ibi Trinitas. Si autem Clericus sit tot vicibus 
compulsatur, quot ordines habuit ipse." # 

Sloping from Stourton Tower is Brewham 
Forest, and in the vale is situated Brewham 
Lodge, which once served as a hunting seat to 
King John. On the reverse side of Kingsettle 
Hill, are Pen Pits, whose origin and use no 



* Durandi rationale, p. 24, 



70 ESSAY ON 

sagacity can discover. But a fortified pro- 
minence in the neighbourhood of Donhead 
Hill, exceeds in interest other specified objects, 
from a conjecture that it is connected with 
Alfred's most decisive victory over the Danes. 
If the vale which is called Dean's Bottom, be 
admitted as a corruption of Dane's Bottom, 
then we may designate Maesbury Camp as the 
fortress to which Guthrum retired on escaping 
the slaughter of his friends. Its vicinity to 
Wedmore, whither the captive King was con- 
veyed for baptism, contributes to constitute this 
scene as the classical ground of Saxon History, 

My return from Donhead Hill to Nunney 
was conducted by my intelligent companion 
through Asham Wood, under indelible impres- 
sions from the sublimities of Nature, and the 
assiduities of Friendship, 

The bold eminences which diversify the 
South Downs (commencing in Hants and ter- 
minating at Beachy-Head,) hold out strong 
allurement to poetical talent. They are alluded 
to in the following extract : — 



LOCAL POETRY. 71 

t{ Ah ! Hills belov'd, where once a happy child, 
Your beechen shades, your turf, your flow'rs among, 

I wove your blue bells into garlands wild, 
And wak'd your echoes with my artless song." 

Rich as is this range of Hills in materials 
for description, Mount Cabourn only has in- 
terested the imagination, and engaged the 
faculties of the Bard. A Poem with that title 
is to be found in the works of William Hay 
iEsq. published by Mr. Nicholls, in two quarto 
volumes. Our author justly expresses his 
predilection for national as contrasted with 
foreign topics of poetry: 

" Me never shall the Muses tempt from home, 
O'er Haemus or o'er Pindus' top to roam; 
My native mount affords me more delight, 
Surpassing those in beauty as in height ; 
And were my powers but equal to my will, 
iParnassus should not be a nobler hill." 

Bow-Hill lies four miles north-west from Chi- 
chester. Its acclivity boasts of a comb with 
a grove of yew trees of remote antiquity, but in 
full and majestic luxuriance. One side of this 

profrajblv diluvial excavation, is decorated with 

F 2 



72 ESSAY ON 

an intennixture of yew and ash, and its reverse 

is agreeably sprinkled over with juniper bushes. 

" Here for a while my proper cares resign'd, 
Here let me sit in sorrow for mankind, 
Like yon neglected shrub at random cast, 
That shades the steep and sighs at every blast." 

Fancy could not select a spot more adapted 
for a gipseying party, at once the most inno- 
cuous and exhilarating of rural festivities. The 
summit of Bow Hill is carpeted with heath 
and crested with thorns. It must be left to 
the Bard to select, appreciate, and describe the 
varied and magnificent objects which here press 
for his attention. To adopt the language of 
the Poet of Mount Cabourn, — 

" From this proud eminence the ravish'd eye 

Sees Earth with Heaven, and Heaven with Ocean vie." 

Four miles northward of Chichester is situated 
St. Roche's Hill (vulgarly styled Rook's Hill), 
on whose summit is a circular entrenchment, 
which once inclosed a Town of the Belgae. 
Jn its centre exist the remains of a Chapel, 
.dedicated to St. Roche, the patron of pilgrims. 



LOCAL PO&TRY. 73 

But the chief objects of attraction manifest 
themselves in' the circumference. To the 
southward the spire of Chichester Cathedral 
is seen overtopping the elms which envelope 
the ancient City of the Regni. Beyond the 
harbours of Chichester and Langston, is pre- 
sented a marine view which has been sketched 
by a masterly hand: 

" O'er the dark waves the winds tempestuous howl, 
The screaming sea-bird quits the troubled sea ; 
But the wild gloomy scene has charms for me, 
And suits the mournful temper of my soul." 

The Navy, which under God, constituted at 
one time the safeguard of our Country, is seen 
at anchor at S pithead, or floating dismantled 
in the harbour of Portsmouth. The blue Hills 
of the Roman Vectis, mingling with the sur- 
rounding atmosphere, terminate the view west- 
ward, and present tints of that extreme delicacy 
and softness of expression which are imitated 
in the distances of Claude Lorraine. If the 
aspect of Mansions, either in ruins or in pros- 
perity, furnish apposite subjects for description, 



74 ESSAY ON 

what district affords it in happier profusion than 
St. Roche's Hill? The venerable remains of 
Halnaker solicit attention, and connected with 
them as an appendage, Boxgrove Church, once 
a Benedictine Priory. In next rotation occurs 
Slindon, formerly a metropolitan palace. The 
genius of the Local Painter will be inspired 
with chivalrous enthusiasm, when he commits 
to the poetical canvas the castle of Arundel 
and the Ducal residence at Goodwood. Nor 
will our artist overlook West-Dean, seated in 
a retired valley, and bearing in its scenery and 
gothic grandeur, an air of monastic seclusion. 

The surrounding Country is studded with 
villages noted in History. West-Withering is 
the port where, 477, iElla landed with an army 
from Germany, and founded the kingdom of 
the South-Saxons. William the Conqueror 
landed at Pcvensey, and converted his falling 
to the ground into an omen of success, by 
exclaiming that he had " taken possession of 
the country." Stretching boldly into the chan- 



LOCAL POETRY. 75 

nel is Pagham, occasionally the residence of 
Thomas & Becket, and the subject of his dis- 
pute with the Marechall of the Exchequer. 
Bognor is associated with the happy days of 
Princess Charlotte's childhood. Middleton is 
famous for the Church-yard which gave rise to 
the animated description of the Poetess : — 

" The wild blast rising from the western cave, 
Drives the huge billows from their heaving bed; 
Tears from their grassy tombs the village dead, 
And breaks the silent sabbath of the grave." 

To Feltham the amiable and learned Cyril 

Jackson retired, carrying with him the good 

wishes and affection of royal and noble pupils, 

whose minds had been enlightened by his 

wisdom or regulated by his superintendance. 

Resigning a trust of academical honour and 

emolument, he retreated to this favourite spot, 

having previously disclaimed dignities which he 

was so eminently qualified to sustain. An 

opinion has been circulated, that Dr. Jackson's 

*' nolo episcopari" proceeded from repugnance 

to the constitution or discipline of the church. 



76 JESSAY ON 

The assurance therefore is satisfactory, that from 
interrogatories by a confidential friend not long 
before his death, he avowed his conscientious 
assent to the principles of orthodoxy. His 
predilections were averse from spheres of emi- 
nence and responsibility; and as early as the 
year 1769, he developed the wishes of his heart 
in moderate and natural anticipations ; — 

" Si niihi, si fas sit traducere leni'ter annos, 

Non pompam nee opes, non mini regna peto ; 
Vellem ut Divini pandens mysteria verbi, 

Virtute et pura sim pietate sacer. 
Curtatis deeiinis parvoque beatus agello 

Vitani secreto rure quietus agam. 
Sint comites Graise pariter Latiasque Catnenae 

Et Jepida" faveat eonjuge castus Hymen. 
Hoc satis seterna spe, cura timorque valete; 

Hoc taniiun superest'discere posse mori." 

Venerable Bede informs us, that a Scottish 
Monk had a cell at Bosham, environed by 
wood and water. Eartham was embellished by 
Hay ley. Otway was born at Trotten. Char- 
lotte Smith lived at Bignor, and Hurdis at 
Bishopstone : 



LOCAL POETRY. 77 

* c Hurdis, ingenuous Poet and Divine, 

A tender sanctity of thought was thine; 

To thee no sculptur'd tomb could prove so deaf, 

As the fond tribute of a sister's tear. 

For earth who shelters in her vast embrace 

The sleeping myriads of the mortal race ; 

No heart in all that multitude has known 

Whose love, fraternal could surpass thine own." 

From the eminence under consideration, may be 
discerned Brighthelmstone, once an obscure 
fishing-place, but now graced with a pavilion, 
where George IV. reposes in the gratitude of 
the inhabitants, who have emerged , under his 
auspices and patronage, into opulence and 
distinction. 

After the enumeration of such abundant 
subjects for celebration, will not the reader 
anticipate the speedy composition of a Poem 
under the title of St. Roche's Hill, and join in 
the prophetic wish which was addressed to the 
river Arun: — 

" Banks ! which inspir'd thy Otway's plaintive strains. 
Wilds ! whose lorn echos learn'd the deeper tone 
Of Collins' pow'rful shell. — Yet once again 
Thy classic stream anew shall hear a lay, 
Bright as its waves aud various as its way." 



78 ESSAY OK 

Dorsetshire which has furnished a Hill 
(Lewesdon) with subjects for a Poem, abounds 
with eminences for the display of ingenuity. 
Blagdon Hill, in the parish of Steepleton, com- 
mands a view of castrametations and an amphi- 
theatre, and is at a short distance from the 
Roman road which communicates with the 
coast. The neighbouring village of Frampton 
is ascertained to be the site of a villa, by the 
discovery of a tesselated pavement. The ad- 
jacent downs are sprinkled with the imperish- 
able monuments of ancient sepulture. 

" Look where I will some marks yet rise to sense 
Of Roman valour and magnificence." 

Iii the annexed village of Winterbourne is a 
Druidical circle, from its rudeness, of higher 
antiquity than the stupendous constructions of 
Abury and Stonehenge. Abbotsbury, at a 
distance only of five miles, boasts of the pic- 
turesque remains of an Abbey, which was 
founded by Orisius for secular Canons, and 
who were exchanged for Benedictines, in the 



LOC^L POETRY. 79 

reign of Edward the Confessor. The chapel 
occupied an elevated situation, and served the 
double use of monastic accommodation and of 
direction to mariners. Abbotsbury boasts too 
of a swannery, a decoy, and of fisheries. The 
coast is infested with smugglers, and has been 
remarkable for shipwrecks, particularly for the 
loss of the Halsewell East Indiaman, Captain 
Pierce, in January, 1786. 



Ask the crowd 



Which flies impatient from the village walk 

To climb the neighbouring cliffs, when far below 

The savage winds have hurl'd upon the coast 

Some helpless bark ; while holy pity melts 

The general eye, or terror's icy hand 

Smites their distorted limbs and horrent hair ; 

While every mother closer to her breast 

Catcheth her child, and, pointing where the waves 

Foam thro' the shatter'd vessel, shrieks aloud 

As one poor wretch, who spreads his piteous arms 

For succour, swallow'd by the roariug surge, 

As now another, dash'd against the rock, 

Drops lifeless down. — O ! deemest thou indeed 

No kind endearment here by Nature giv'n, 

To mutual terror and compassion's tears ?" 

An ingenious fancy would discover in these 
subjects copious materials for song, The 



80 ESSAY ON 

ascent to Blagdon Hill is imposing, and the 
prospect from its summit most delightful. 
Additional interest accrues to my mind from 
the consideration, that this grand eminence is 
situated in the parish of my recent incumbency, 
and is equally adapted as Bidcombe Hill for 
solitude and meditation. 

The thoughtless mariner may slight the Power 

Which hush'd the roaring of the midnight blast; 
And live forgetful of th' auspicious hour, 

Which saw his vessel safe and danger past; 
But whilst life's glass retains one grain of sand, 

Or vital heat shall warm this tranquil breast, 
The sovereign Pilot I will bless, whose hand 

Steer'd my toss'd bark iuto a cove of rest. 

But however Blagdon Hill may boast of its 
select and rare assemblage of beauty and gran- 
deur, it must yield precedency to Bull-barrow 
Hill in the same county, for extent and variety 
of prospect. May I be permitted to suggest 
to any Bard who may attempt the delineation 
of its scenery the substitution of Rawlsbury 
for Bull-barrow Hill as a more poetical and 
(from its camp) a more appropriate designation. 
The new Forest, Cranborne Chace, Poole 



LOCAL POETRY. 81 

Harbour, Brownsea and Purbeck islands, and 
the grand fragments of Corfe Castle glitter in 
succession before the spectator's vision. Milton 
Abbey, which exists in the neighbourhood, is 
said to be coeval with Athelstan. Few subjects 
furnish such interesting topics for illustration 
as the venerable remains of religious houses, 
which were raised by the piety and endowed 
by the munificence of our forefathers. Refer- 
ence will be made to the period 

" When convent walls and nunnery spires arose, 
In pleasant spot which monk or ahbot chose ; 
When counts and barons saints devoted fed, 
And making cheap exchange had prayer for bread." 

On the reverse side of the prospect, at Stall- 
bridge, and surrounded with elms, is an ancient 
and commanding mansion and park, formerly 
belonging to a junior branch of the Boyle family. 
The neglect and consequent decay of ancient 
edifices which were the abodes of hospitality, 
and are still ornaments of the neighbourhood, 
verify the picture of the Poet : 

. " Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, 
And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall." 



8£ ESSAY ON 

In the contiguous Church is an epitaph to a 

paragon of female accomplishments; — 

" She that lies here and rests within this tomb, 
Had Rachel's face and Leah's fruitful womb : 
Abigail's wisdom, Lydia's faithful heart, 
With Martha's care, and Mary's better part." 

From this memorial to Mrs. Ann Weston, 
the Bard of Rawlsbury Hill might seize an 
apt occasion of eulogizing the sex to whose 
perils man owes his introduction into life, and 
to whose care and affection he is indebted for 
solace through the cares of manhood and the 
decrepitude of age. 

Duncliffe Hill, shaggy with its copse, and 
Melbury Hill in its unclothed sublimity, ob- 
trude on attention, whilst Bradley Knoll and 
Mere Down interest by their indistinctness. 

The Forest of Blackmore stretches itself from 
the base of the Hill through a wide and woody 
circumference. It is rendered popular by the 
story of a white stag which Henry III. took in 
hunting, and restored (after putting an inscribed 
collar round his neck) to his native liberty. 



LOCAl, POETRY. 83 

The posy is handed down by tradition, and 

adorns the sign-post of an inn, near which the 

stag was subsequently killed, but its composition 

is at variance with History and Chronology : — 

" When Julius Caesar reigned here* 
I was but then a little deer : 
When Julius Caesar reigned King, 
Around my neck he put this ring. 
Whoever doth me overtake, 
Pray spare my lite for Caesar's sake." 

At Haselbury Brian, and indeed in most of the 
contiguous parishes, is seen the painted May- 
pole, which is annually decorated with flowers 
to welcome the return of spring. 

t\ And thither let the village swain repair, 
And light of heart the village maiden gay ; 

To dress with flowers her half-dishevell'd hair, 
And celebrate the merry morn of May." 

There can be no doubt but that the May-day 
pastimes were imported to this country by the 
Romans, and are derived from the Floralia, 
divested however of the impurities and licen- 
tiousness which disgraced their prototype, 
formerly May-day commenced with solemn 



84 ESSAY ON 

praise, and it was the custom for citizens to 
retire from smoke and dust to the woods and 
meadows, to join the grateful harmony of the 
feathered songsters for the departure of Winter, 
and the approximation of fruitfulness. The 
day was concluded with music and dancing. 

" Sometimes with secure delight, 
The upland hamlets will invite ; 
When the merry bells ring round ; 
And the jocuud rebecks sound 
To many a youth and many a maid, 
Dancing in the chequer'd shade ; 
And young and old come forth to play 
On a sunshine holy-day." 

The church of Rome discovered an insight into 
the propensions of human nature when it re- 
lieved imposed austerities by opportune and 
harmless recreations. To remove impediments 
to conversion, it transplanted many observances 
from the Pagan Calendar into its ritual, as 
Eleazar took the censers of sinners, and made 
them broad plates as a covering for the altar. 
Numbers xvi. 38. 



10CAL POETRY. 85 

By the prudent adjustment of Festivals, 
sufficient intervals were left for business, and 
for relief from it, by relaxations. Important eras 
in Christianity became interesting, touching, and 
commemorative, and occasions were furnished 
for hospitality, gratitude, and mutual cheer- 
fulness. Half the gloom of Winter was blazoned 
by the anticipated and realized gambols and 
viands of Christmas, Easter, and Whitsuntide; 
and children in every village, (till puritanism 
spread its sickening affectations,) looked forward 
with delight to the feast of his parochial Saint, 
and to the anniversary of his Church's dedi- 
cation. 

" These were thy charms, sweet village, sports like these, 
With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please ; 
These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed, 
These were thy charms— but all these, charms are fled." 

Many causes have contributed to abridge and 
in some places to annihilate the holy-days of 
villagers. The most plausible pretext for their 
discouragement is founded on their tendency to 
licentiousness. It deserves consideration whether 



86 ESSAY ON 

rural pastimes do not tend to abuse by their 
paucity, and whether malevolence, selfishness, 
and prejudices have not gained ascendancy by 
their diminution or overthrow. Are not the 
apprehensions of the Chronicler verified by the 
fact, 

" Open pastimes being supprest, worse practices within doors 
are to be feared ?" 

The bad humours are expelled by exercise ; good 
neighbourhood is promoted by social inter- 
course ; enmities subside and friendships are 
formed in circles of promiscuous enjoyment ; 
the mind derives elasticity by remission from 
toil, and a return is made to former occupations 
with renovated strength, activity, and good 
humour. 



Let some harmless joy 



The vacant hour on Festivals employ. 
Scarce can the muse believe, that barb'rous pride 
Would have these comforts to the poor denied ; 
These days, say they, with barren leisure join'd, 
By useless pleasure are from toil purloin'd. 
Thus would their kindness to the poor dispense, 
Excess of labour for their recompence. 



LOCAL POETRY. 87 

Why shouldst thou grieve that the laborious hind 
On solemn days some relaxation find ? 
Why damp his music or the rustic lay, 
Or grudge the village maid her neat array ? 
Let them at least in recompence for pain, 
Some share of life and happiness attain." 

Let our Local Poet feel the animation of the 

Scottish Bard, and glow with his enthusiasm. 

" The Poetic genius of my country bade me 

sing the loves, the joys, the rural scenes and 

rural pleasures of my native soil in my native 

tongue: I tuned my wild artless notes, as she 

inspired." — 

To the Friend who accompanied me to the 
Hill under consideration, I would consign as 
a duty the task of its poetical embellishment. 
Occasional residence near the spot, a refined 
perception of natural beauties, and a taste for 
literature, antiquities, and political economy, 
pre-eminently designate him for the undertaking. 

The views and topics which are compre- 
hended in a survey of the country from Broad- 
way Hill, in Worcestershire, demand registry 
in the Local Calendar. The first object that 



88 ESSAY ON 

presents itself is the ruinated Abbey of Eves- 
ham, which was founded in the year 709 by 
Egwin, Bishop of Worcester for Monks of the 
Order of St. Benedict. The vale of Evesham 
is proverbial for its fruitfulness, and in spring 
and autumn is decorated with blossoms and 
fruitage, which tend to enliven and enrich the 
landscape. The sight of Breedon Hill leads 
the imagination to Ross, which boasts of its 
views over the romantic Wye, and of having 
given birth to the benevolent character, whom 
Pope has immortalized in verse dear to every 
lover of Poetry. 

The Malvern Hills are from their height 
and amplitude prominent objects. On the 
highest pinnacle the hitherto received axiom, 
that no eminence in Britain exhibits an unin- 
terrupted prospect of three miles in circumfer- 
ence is refuted. But surprize will be excited 
if the Bard omit other selections equally con- 
genial with taste, and perhaps more adapted 
for the exercise of talent and ingenuity. The 



LOaAX POETRY. 89 

Cotswold Hills are noted for salutariness of 

atmosphere, and for an indigenous breed of 

sheep which depasture its hillocks and vales. 

What an apt occasion to descant on rural 

manners and on the simplicity and repose of 

pastoral occupations] 

*' Ascending next fair Cotswold plaines, 
She revels with the shepheard's swaines, 
And sends the daintie nymphes away, 
'Gainst Tame and Isis' wedding day." 

If a wish exist in our Poet to illustrate the 
sports which exercised the skill and agility of 
our hardy and more virtuous forefathers, the 
contiguous range of the Cotswold Hills would 
supply the occasion. In the reign of James I. 
rural feats were patronized by Robert Dover, 
Esq. and celebrated by contemporary Poets, 
under the title of " Annalia Dubrensia." The 
villages still exhibit annual scenes of festivity 
and cheerfulness,, In the delineation of ancient 
sports, Archery should obtain particular noti- 
fication, and tournaments should not be forgot- 
ten, since men derive from them their chivalrous 



90 ESSAY ON 

sense of honour, and women protection and 
dignity. If our Bard would enumerate these 
and other old pastimes in his local song, 
Michael Drayton's assertion would at least be 
metrically sustained. 

" The Nemasan and the Isthmian pastimes still, 
Tho' dead in Greece survive on Cotswold Hill." 

Proofs of the congeniality of public amuse- 
ments to human organization, and a short 
History of Grecian and Roman Sports might 
precede the description of British Pastimes. 

Man stands in need of pursuits analogous to 
his compounded nature. The soul is sustained 
by religion ; the body is invigorated by exercise. 
The powers of each are strengthened by judi- 
cious relaxations. The games of classical 
antiquity were instituted on principles of adap- 
tation to the circumstances of our double con- 
formation, and demonstrate the wisdom and 
policy of their legislative enactment. The 
most prominent games of Greece were the 
Olympic, Pythian, Isthmian, and Ncmsean. 



LOCAL POETRY. 91 

They were presided over by Jupiter, Apollo, 
Neptune, and Hercules. Sacrifices preceded 
and concluded their celebration. The Roman 
games originated in honour of particular divi- 
nities, and flourished under the Republic and 
the Empire. They constituted part of reli- 
gious observances. The Romans no doubt 
borrowed many of their games from Greece, 
but some of their exercises have been ascribed 
to a Trojan original: 

" Hunc morem cursus atqne hsee certam'ma primus 
Ascanius, longara muris cum cingeret Albam 
Rettulit ; et priscos docuit celebrare Latinos ; 
Quo puer ipse modo, secum quo Troia pubes 
Albani docuere suos : hinc proxima porro 
Accepit Roma et patrium servavit honorem." 

But the sports for which Rome was most dis- 
tinguished, were the Gladiatorial exhibitions in 
the Forum, Circus, and Amphitheatre. Hu- 
manity shudders at compulsory and fatal con- 
flicts, but the acknowledgment is due to histo- 
rical truth, that the martial spirit of the Romans 
declined from the period of their discouragement, 
till it evaporated at their suppression. That 



92 ESSAY ON 

advantage resulted to the common weal from 
public sports is evident, because they were 
patronized by the government, and their charges 
were defrayed from the national treasury. As a 
dignified record of the importance of the prin- 
cipal games of Greece, their periodical cele- 
bration formed epochs in the national calen- 
dar, and olympiads characterized events in its 
chronology. The games were so graduated as 
to embrace all ranks of society, and their in- 
fluence extended to the spectators, islands and 
colonies. Plebeian contests consisted of the 
athletic exercises of the Pentathlon, whilst 
the pastimes of the Patricians sprung from 
rivalry in the Cursus. 

f i Sunt quos Curriculo pulverem Olympicum 
Collegisse juvat : metaque fervidis 
Evitata rotis, palmaque nobilis 
Terrarum domiuos evehit ad deos." 

Officers, selected for the purpose, investigated 
the origin and character of the candidates. Il- 
legitimacy, or crime, personal or hereditary, 
operated as disqualifications for competition. 



LOCAL POETRY. 93 

Thus public games subserved the cause of 
morality, and restricted the passion of love to 
the chastity of conjugal affection. The pre- 
vious discipline was also favorable to virtue. 

" Qui studet optatam cursu contendere metam 
Multa tulit fecitque Puer ; sudavit et alsit ; 
Abstinuit venere et vino." 

Allusion is made to the public games in the 
apostle's epistle to the Corinthians, who were 
an ancient people of Greece. Know ye not 
that they which run in a race, run all, but one 
receiveth the prize ? so run, that ye may obtain. 
And every man that striveth for the mastery is 
temperate in all things. Now they do it to 
obtain a corruptible crown, but we an incor- 
ruptible. I therefore so run, not as uncertainly ; 
so fight I, not as one that beateth the air, but 
I keep under my body and bring it into sub- 
jection. 1 Cor. xxiv. 27. 

There can be no doubt also, but that in the 
absence of higher principles and motives of 
religion, an honourable and disinterested love 



94 ESSAY ON 

of glory and renown fostered magnanimous 
ambition and a valiant self-denial, and gave 
birth to many heroic and noble-minded atchieve- 
ments. 

The vegetable but dearly-prized crown en- 
circled the brows of the victors, whom heralds 
exhibited to view amidst the flourish of trumpets, 
the gratulations of friends, and the acclamations 
of the multitude. Their success was registered 
in the public records, celebrated with dancing, 
and perpetuated in canticles. 

Even the pain of defeat had its assuaging 
recollections : 



Non tarn 



Turpe fuit vinci, quam contendisse decorum." 

I deem that the Poet will not exceed his duty 
in recording,that the celebration of public games 
in the classical ages of antiquity communicated 
vigour to the body, energy to the mind, guardian- 
ship to liberty, love of country, respect for the 
laws and religion. 

The Bard of Broad-way Hill might by a 



LOCAL POETRY. 95 

poetical licence extend his imagination to the 
Clent Hills (skreen'd from view by an inter- 
posing eminence,) and indulge in agreeable 
associations. The Leasowes will readily occur 
to recollection, which from a common farm 
was converted, under the direction of elegance 
and taste, into a region of exquisitely varied 

beauty. 

" Nor Shenstone, thou, 

Shall pass without thy meed, thou son of peace ! 
Who knevv'st perchance to harmonize thy shade 
Still softer than thy song ; yet was that song 
Nor rude nor inharmonious, when attun'd 
To pastoral plaint or tale of slighted love." 

The Clent Hills will also bring Hagley to re- 
collection, which has long been the theme of 
admiration for the disposal of its walks, the 
richness of its groves and the undulations of 
its soil. Amongst its bowers Thomson de- 
lighted to wander, and a seat marks the spot 
of his chief attraction : 

" O Lyttleton ! — thro' Hagley-Park thou strayest, 
With woods o'er-hung and shagg'd with mossy rocks 5 
Whence on each hand the gushing waters play, 
And down the rough cascade white dashing fall, 



96 ESSAY ON 

Or gleam in lengthen'd vistas thro' the trees. 
Perhaps thy lov'd Lucinda shares thy walk 
With soul to thine attun'd : then Nature all 
Wears to the lover's eye a look of love, 
And all the tumult of a guilty world, 
Toss'd hy ungenerous passions, sinks away." 

But a deeper sensibility is excited by the con- 
sideration that Hagley is consecrated by the 
sorrows of Lord George Lyttleton, who here 
bewailed the loss of his accomplished partner 
in a monody of unrivalled excellence : 

" Oft would the Dryads of these woods rejoice 

To hear her heavenly voice. 
h or her despising (when she deign'd to sing) 

The sweetest songsters of the spring. 
The woodlark and the linnet pleas'd no more ; 

The nightingale was mute, 

And every shepherd's flute, 

Was cast in silent scorn away, 

While all attended to her sweeter lay, 
Ye larks, ye linnets, now resume your song, 

And thou melodious Philomel, 

Again thy plaintive story tell ; 

For death has stopp'd that tuneful tongue 
Whose music could alone your warbling notes excel. 

In vain I look around 

O'er all the well-known ground, 
My Lucy's wonted footsteps to descry j 

Where oft we us'd to walk, 

Where oft in tender talk, 



LOCAL POETRY. 97 

We saw the summer sun go down the sky ; 

Nor by yon fountain's side, 

Nor where its waters glide 

Along the valley can she now be found : 
In all the wide-stretch'd prospect's ample bound, 

No more my mournful eye 

Can aught of her espy, 
But the sad sacred earth where her dear relics lie," 

But perhaps no unsung eminence presents 
more solid ground-work for fame in this line 
of poetry, than Clearbury Hill, in the County 
of Wilts. It soon arrests the eye of the travel- 
ler to the right as he passes from Sarum to 
Southampton. The area of its camp on the 
summit is crested by a plantation which gives 
it height and distinction. Longford Castle 
is situated at its base, and reminds the spec- 
tator of its collection of pictures and of the 
spirit of its proprietor, who re-built the coun- 
cil House at Sarum, in his munificence as Re- 
corder. In its immediate neighbourhood also 
is Standlynch which was purchased by Parlia- 
mentary grant to enrich and dignify the title 
of Nelson. At a short distance is Clarendon 



98 ESSAY ON 

Park, formerly a royal forest, and containing, 
a palace, in which were enacted the constitu- 
tions of Clarendon. This place also gave 
title of nobility to the celebrated author of the 
history of the rebellion. A prospect over the 
new forest from Clearbury Hill may lead to 
a descant on the history of the conqueror, and 
on his invason of his subjects 3 rights by its for- 
mation and support ; nor will the Bard be 
silent on the catastrophe of Rufus by the ar- 
row of Walter Tyrrel. ' 

In the opposite direction, Clearbury Hill 
presents to view Old Sarum, with various indi- 
cations in the neighbourhood of Roman, Saxon 
and Danish antiquities. But the principal 
object for delineation from this eminence is 
the singularly beautiful Cathedral of Salisbury, 
perhaps the most chaste and consistent specimen 
of Gothic Architecture which distinguishes the 
century (13th.) in which it was erected. 

" Let my due feet never fail 
To walk the studious cloysters pale, 
And love the high embower'd roof, 
With antic pillars massy proof, 



LOCAL POETRY. 99 

And storied windows richly dight, 
Casting a dim religious light : 
There let the pealing organ blow- 
To the full voic'd quire below, 
In service high and anthems clear, 
As may with sweetness through mine ear 
Dissolve me into ecstacies, 
And bring all Heaven before mine eyes." 

Wilton House, long celebrated as the most 
noble repository of statues, busts and monu- 
mental inscriptions, offers its attractions. Nor 
a less topic of interest is presented to the ima- 
gination by a view of the trees which form the 
unbrageous walk where was commenced "a 
work useful in the kind thereof, for honest and 
civil delectation." Who can forbear coupling 
with the idea of "Arcadia" an eulogy on Sir 
Philip Sidney, that Flower of English Chi- 
valry, or refuse a tear to his untimely doom ? 

'" The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, 

Await alike the inevitable hour, 
The paths of glory lead but to the grave." 

If our Local Delineator would diversify his 

picture with biographical portraiture, the 

ELoFC. j 



100 ESSAY ON 

vicinage would recal to his recollection charac- 
ters most worthy of celebration. In the little 
chapel at Bemerton the angelical Herbert of- 
ficiated, and in the Parsonage Garden, which 
is bordered by the sweetly-flowing and trans- 
parent N adder, he conn'd his poesy and poured 
forth his ejaculations. Bemerton is also me- 
morable for the incumbency of John Norris, 
who may not unaptly be denominated the Plato 
of England. His character may be described 
from his epitaph. "H. E. S. Johannes Norris, 
Parochiae hujus Rector, ubi annos viginti bene 
latuit, curas pastorali et Uteris vacans, quo in 
recessu sibi posuit late per orbem sparsa ingenii 
paris ac pietatis monumenta. Obiit An : Dom : 
1711. ^tatis 54." 

Poetry could not be more judiciously applied 
to purposes of consecration than in embalming 
the memory of these ecclesiastical worthies. 
Admiration of departed merit should not how- 
ever generate insensibility to contemporary ex* 
cellence. The same delightful parsonage^which 



LOCAL POETRY. 101 

lodged the authors of " the Temple" and of 
* Ideal Happiness" has not lost its character 
for erudition. Archdeacon Coxe is its present 
occupant, and not inadequately completes a 
Literary Triumvirate. The promotion of these 
liberal scholars to a situation so adapted to 
awaken energies and stimulate exertion, reflects 
credit on the house of Pembroke, and reminds 
us of the good old times, " when there was 
not a great family but what had the honour of 
having brought forward and raised into distinc- 
tion some man who afterwards rendered himself 
illustrious by means of this support, in Arts, 
Literature, or the Church." — I will not hastily 
abandon the hope that Clearbury Hill will grace 
the catalogue of Local Poems, nor will I doubt, 
but that the different counties which supply 
eminences appropriate for song, will furnish 
Bards for their metrical celebration. Poetry, 
which embraces Hills exclusively for their sub- 
jects, is strictly national, and I wish to see it 
flourish and abound, till 

" Not a mountain rears its head unsung." 
H 



102 ESSAY ON 

Excursions thither to collect materials will fur- 
nish healthsome exercise, their combination will 
prove an agreeable amusement, and the occa- 
sional introduction of new scenes and incidents 
will furnish unfailing sources of interest and 
delight. 

" There is a pleasure in poetic pains 

Which only Poets know. The shifts and turns,. 

Th' expedients and inventions multiform 

To which the Mind resorts in chase of terms 

Tho' apt yet coy and difficult to win ; 

T arrest the fleeting images that fill 

The mirror of the mind and hold them fast 

And force them sit, till he has pencil'd off 

A faithful likeness of the forms he views j 

Then to dispose his copies with such art 

That each may find its most propitious light 

And shine by situation, hardly less 

Than by the labour and the skill it cost, 

Are occupations of the Poet's mind 

So pleasing, and that steal away the thought 

With such address from themes of sad import, 

That lost in his own musings, happy man, 

He feels th' anxieties of life, denied 

Their wonted entertainment, all retire ; 

Such joys has he that sings." 

It has been usual for Poets indirectly to 

recommend particular effusions of their Muse 

by critical disquisitions. The author of " the 



LOCAL POETRY. 103 

Night Thoughts' prefaced his Odes with rules 
for Lyric Poetry ; Pope introduced his descrip- 
tion of the four Seasons with a Discourse on 
Pastorals ; and Shenstone attached to his serious 
Pieces interesting observations on Elegy. Under 
the implied sanction of these authorities, I have 
prefixed to my alpine effusion an inaugural 
Essay on Local Poetry. The composition of 
the Dissertation and Poem has proved an agree- 
able avocation from severer studies, and with 
the reservation of similar indulgences, I reiterate 
the prayer of Erasmus, " mihi detur in sacris 
literis tranquilly consenescere." 

FRANCIS SKURRAY. 

Horningsham, Wilts, 
July 1, 1824, 



h % 



BIBCOMBE HILL, 



ANALYSIS OF BIDCOMBE HILL. 



JIjxordium. — Invocation to the Muse of Denham. — Description 
of objects in the ascent and on the summit of the Hill, which 
leads to a variety of observations and reflections. — Morning 
and Evening, with their accompaniments. — The simplicity and 
ancient respectability of Pastoral occupations. — Fox-Hunting 
described.— Knoyle-Down marked by its Windmill. — Shaftes- 
bury. — Duncliffe-Hill and the Daughter's Grave. — Coursing- 
Meetings on Mere Down. — Mendip Hills, their character and 
productions. — Roddenbury Hill, the scene of an inhuman 
murder. — Cley Hill and its Festivities. Apostrophe to Liberty 
as enjoyed by Englishmen, with allusion to the detention of 
our Countrymen in France, and a wish expressed for their 
return. — Lansdown Hill, with thoughts suggested by juvenile 
recollections. The hot springs and splendid gaieties of Bath. 
— A faint view of the Welsh Mountains, gives rise to an 
enumeration of their varied prospects.— Scratchbury and Bat- 
tlesbury Hills, fortified by the ancient Britons, whose manners ] 
pursuits, and idolatry, are described, with the progress which 
they made to civilization under Roman tuition, and by the sub- 
sequent introduction of Christianity. — Sheerwater Lake. Its 
formation, wild fowl, the scene of a fatal catastrophe. — Beacon 
Hill (near Amesbury) and Stonehenge. — Danish, Belgick, and 
Druidical Barrows. The sanguinary ceremonies of ancient 
superstition contrasted with the benign spirit of the Gospel. — 
Matilda's Life, Death, and Funeral. — Sir Edward Seymour's 
Tomb contrasted with the Burial of Edmund Ludlow, (his 
fallow parishioner and contemporary) in a foi-eign Land, and 



ANALYSIS OF BIDCOMBE HILL. 

with the Grave of a Female Suicide in the neighbouring Cross-- 
roads. — The remains of Woodhouse Castle.— The Priory in 
ruins. — Glastonbury Tor, with reference to the first planting of 
Christianity in Britain. Its dilapidated Abbey. Utility of 
monastic institutions during the dark ages, argued, from their 
having proved the safeguards of classical learning, and from the 
hospitality which they exercised to the poor and stranger. 
Mention made of the dissolution of monasteries in France, 
and of the humane reception of emigrant priests by our 
countrymen, particularly by Lord Arundel. Imposing Cere- 
monies of the Roman Catholic Church. The Reformation, 
Sympathy with Emigrants and Ruins.?— Fonthill Abbey (with 
its inclosed demesne) where Lord Nelson was sumptuously and 
theatrically entertained. — Allusion to his Lordship's victories, 
and to the general concern manifested at his death. — The ruins 
of Wardour Castle, which Lady Arundel defended against an 
attack of the parliamentary forces ; with thoughts on rebellion, 
and deprecation of its revival. — Alfred's Tower; victory over 
the Danes ; invocation of his spirit under threatened invasion. 
— Stourhead. Application of ancient mythology to its lake, 
grotto, and pantheon. — Marston House, the ancient residence 
pf the Hon. Robt. Boyle, who pursued philosophy in sub- 
servience to religion.— The hospitable Cottage of a Reverend 
Friend, under the designation of Theron. — Apostrophe to the 
calamities of war, and an invocation to peace. — Longleat incor- 
porated with a Priory ; visited by George III. ; the asylum of 
Bishop Kenn ; sentiments of good-will to the person and 
family of its proprietor.— The Village of Horningsham de- 
scribed, and the utility of its ancient pastimes. Rural tales. 
The abodes of hospitality. The dying bed and funeral. The 
church. The author's parsonage, and address to Theron, 
which concludes the poem. 



BIDCOMBE HILL. 



Ille terrarum mihi prseter omnes 
Angnlus ridet. Hor. 



1 O sketch the landscape in its shadowy forms ; 
To paint its beauties as they strike the eye 
And warm the heart, from height protuberant, 
Mine be the task. Ye studies that endure 
Till the last glimmer of the midnight lamp, 
Your cares awhile suspend! Let the stretch'd mind, 
In sportive relaxations with the Muse, 
Recover elasticity and force. 

Fancy no long excursion dares attempt. 
It aims not to explore the giddy heights 
Or half-way perils of Parnassus' mount, 
Content to hover round the classic spot, 
Or skim the level of the vale below. 



110 BID COMBE HILL. 

Spirit of Denham ! I invoke thy spell ! 
Thou, whose adventurous fingers touched the harp 
And waken'd strains of Local Poesy, 
With kindred inspiration aid my song. 

Along the terrac'd walk that comprehends 
Views of wild verdure, cottages, and copse 
That skirts the hollow vale, the hill is reach'd 
Which forms the topic of my early song. 
Sometimes I pass the kiln to overlook 
The silvan glen, where the dread freebooter 
Lay hid by day and secreted his spoil ; 
Its title claiming from the robber's name 
And lurking-place. # Returning I review 
The pensile trees (which on the sloping side 
My fancy mingled with the native ash) 
As yet deliver'd from the woodman's stroke. 
As I ascend the eminence sublime 
Thro' chalky track-way deepen'd by the storm, 
The breezes play wild music to nty ear, 

* Tom's Hole. 



BIDCOMBE HILL. Ill 

And sheep-beils tinkle from each echoing comb. 
I mark the havoc which the axe has made 
Amidst the branching honours of the grove, 
Where birds of omen had from climber's grasp 
For immemorial time their aerie built. 
I watch the faggot kindled by the boy 
Who scares from new-sown fields voracious birds 
Which hover o'er his head, and then alight 
In distant nook to snatch the unearth 'd grain, 
Till driv'n by shoutings into fresh retreat. 
Within the hedge-rows that inclose the lawn, 
The woollen tents guard iEthiopian hordes 
From autumn's damps,but scarcely from its show'rs . 
Around the crackling flame the swarthy groupe 
Sit muttering jargon, whilst the wither'd hag 
The carrion meal concocts. The younger tribe 
Watch the stray horse, torment the snarling cur 
Or whining ply each passenger with prayers. 
Soon as the dusky evening shrouds the sky, 
The shuddering damsel from her mistress steals 
To hear good fortune or distress in love. 
The superstitious housewife too repairs 






112 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

To learn the thief who from the nightly shed 
Purloin'd her linen or her cackling brood. 
But who the dotards' folly will attest 
Who hid his hoard in designated nook^ 
That he thro' conjuration might embrace 
With next day's sun a quadruple increase ?. 
Ah ! check contemptuous sallies, to lament 
A broken spirit and a lingering death. 

The wide-spread prospect brightens as i rise, 
The Sun illuminates the distant Hills, 
Save when aerial vapours interpose 
And mark the downs with insulated shades. 

The Summit crested with umbrageous gloom. 
Like the fam'd haunts of Academus' grove, 
Invites the wilder'd mind of man to search 
For Truth, or muse upon Futurity 
Which Plato's fancy pierc'd. Here the fond swain 
Might pledge in maiden's ear his vows of love 
Near to the list'ning Heaven which he invokes ; 
Whilst to exemplify fidelity 



BIDCOMBE HILL. US 

The stock-dove watches near his brooding mate. 
Soothing her cares with blandishment. But themesr 
Of loftier import ruPd the hearts and minds 
Of pagan ancestors. Upon this height 
They practis'd sorceries, rude altars raised 
And magic circles formM, from whence to hold 
Near converse with their tutelary gods. 
Their Bards inspired by high locality, 
Excursive roam'd amid' romance and song ; 
Their Muse prolific from ethereal fire. 
Amidst the awfulness of this retreat, 
No busy perturbations interrupt 
The souPs ascent to Him who fram'd the world : 
Scarce any sounds are heard, save mingled notes 
Of woodland choristers, or from the vale 
The soften'd chimings of the Sabbath bells. 

Hail Heaven-inspiring Solitudes ! Ye yield 
An earnest of eternal peace. The conscious soul 
Foregoes by sympathy its nether sphere^ 
And holds communion with a world unseen, 



114 ElDCfOMBE HILL, 

Oh ! when shall we with defecated sight 
Contemplate regions in empyreal climes 
In all their wide circumference of light 
And panoramic majesty 7 Or view 
The Sun of Righteousness with healing wings 7 
Or look undazzled upon Sapphire Thrones'? 
Or see His face that is invisible ? 
Oh ! when shall harps celestial charm our ears 
And Hallelujahs from angelic choirs 
Transport our souls on the high Hill of Heaven T 
Not till we pass the murky vale of death 
And mount the skies with plumes of cherubim. 
The Muse meanwhile, from cloud-capt eminence, 
Will glance o'er varied objects that obtrude 
Upon the view or intellectual sight, 
And like the vagrant and excursive bee, 
Cull luscious stores of knowledge in her flight 
For Fancy's storehouse and poetic use. 



Oft times on Bidcombe's highest ridge I stand 
To watch the progress of Aurora's ray 
When first it twinkles in the eastern sky. 



BIDCOMEE HILL. 115 

Darkness and Light divided empire hold 

And wage a kind of elemental war. 

Transient the strife, for lo ! the Prince of day 

Proudly triumphant mounts his brilliant throne, 

And rules, sole Regent, his aerial realm. 

The lark his pinions trims, sparkling with gems 

Of dew. Quitting his tufted bed he towers 

Above the clouds invisible, and chants 

His pealing anthem at the porch of Heav'n : 

Then in swift flight he bends his downward course 

Tuning his notes to softer melody, 

And hovering lights beside his brooding mate, 

The dear enchantress of his closing song. 

Released from sleep at customary hour 

The shepherd starts . On his bare knees he breathes 

The filial prayer ; then offers thanks to Him 

Who from on high dispatch'd his messengers 

To guard from peril his defenceless head. 

Now from his chamber he escapes unshod ; 

The latch he raises with a gentle hand 

Lest by untimely jar he might disturb 

The unhealthy bantling lately lull'd to rest. 



116 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

His fleecy charge he counts, and when the dew 
No longer glistens on the tender blade, 
He frees from bondage the impatient flock 
Which bound exulting to the glades below. 

Oft from this height (when Philomel begins 
'Midst secret bowers to chant her vesper hymn 
And the hoarse raven wheels around the oak 
Under whose canopy he hopes to lodge) 
I watch the setting and the rising orbs 
With light s contrasted glow. Sol's burnished car, 
Borne by fleet coursers, gains the western goal, 
While in the adverse region of the sky 
Cynthia displays her silver-coJour'd lamp, 
Save when dun vapours flickering thro' the air 
With filmy shadows intercept her beam. 
Beyond the confines of the shelving brake, 
The leveret ventures from her dark retreat. 
Eager each sound to catch erect she stands • 
Then dreading foes in every rustling wind 
Back to the covert of the wood she hies, 
Until embolden'd by eve's thickening gloom, 



BID COM BE HILL. 117 

Without alarm she culls the scatter'd thyme, 
And sportive gambols o'er the umbrageous lawn. 

The weary Shepherd pens his sated flock ; 
Part bleating stand, part ruminating lie. 
His task perform'd, his fleecy charge immur'd, 
lie to his cot repairs, fondles the boy s 
While the good housewife spreads the frugal fare 
Which industry had earn'd. The meal concludes. 
The children kneel beside their sire and pray, 
That God would guide their childhood's steps aright, 
And bless their parents with His Heavenly love. 
The Shepherd rests his limbs ; in fresh'ning sleep 
Recruits exhausted nature, nor awakes 
Till the shrill clarion of the matin bird 
Proclaims the dawning of another morn, 

A time there was (as ancient poets sing) 

When Shepherds vied in song, and trac'd with skill 

The laws which rule the planetary world. 

A time there was when Kings did not disdain 

To cultivate the fields and tend the fold. 
I 



118 JBIDCOMBE HILL. 

Once did the great Jehovah condescend 
To be esteem'd the Shepherd of the Jews,* 
And when celestial choristers were sent 
To sing glad tidings of Messiah's birth, 
To Shepherds first the tuneful message came. 

Thus fancy loves to roam 'midst tales of yore, 
And muse on times that never will return. 

Where the MilPs canvass flutters in the gale, 
The youthful Poet wander'd oer the leas, 
To pour his sorrows near the verdant spot 
Where lies his earliest love. How the press'd heart 
Borrows relief when it unbosoms pangs ; 
Or quitting earth looks Heaven-ward, or spends 
Its agony in elegiac woe ! 
Advancing further on the ridge of hill, 
Shaston is glittering in the sunny ray, 
And like a high, embattled citadel, 

Frowns in defiance over Motcombe vale. 

1 , — 3u 

* Ps. lxxx. 1. 



BID COMBE HILL. 1 19 

Now Duncliffe hill arrests the gazer's eye, 
(Clad with dense copse-wood and embowering trees) 
And flings its shadows to the banks of Stour. 
In its full view, upon the opposing mount, 
There liv'd a damsel whose angelic soul 
Shew'd she was lent a moment from the skies. 
If e'er affection warm the human breast 
Free from terrestrial grossness, sure it is 
When fathers and accomplished daughters meet 
To interchange their sympathetic love. 
Who can describe parental hope and fear 
When dire disease first seiz'd its lovely prey ? 
Ah ! who can speak the unutterable pang 
Which swell'd the breast, when Emily had died ? 
Scarce e'er did maid more saintly sleep in death, 
Or antedate the bliss beyond the tomb. 
Vain are the arts which friendship would supply 
To heal the wound that festers at the heart. 
Perhaps the darling object of regret 
Flew from impending ills and woes to come. 
Oh ! check the unholy tear, stifle the sobs 
I 2 



120 B1DCOMBE HILL. 

Which Heaven's will arraigns. Righteous is the Lord 
In all his ways, and holy in His works. 

Oft times is heard, on the adjacent mount, 
The cheerful music of the opening pack 
When sportsmen join the ardor of the chase, 
Share every pleasure and its perils brave. 
Scar'd by the threat'ning sound the fleecy tribes 
In wild disorder scamper o'er the plain, 
Spreading alarm. Soon as the distant cry, 
Dying in air, is indistinctly heard, 
The scatter'd fugitives in phalanx form, 
Assume a front of menace, stamp their feet 
And toss their heads in mockery of war. 
Cheer'd by the shouts of men and notes of dogs 
The coursers speed, o'er hedge and ditches fly, 
'Till the loud whoop proclaims the ended chase, 
And bugles ring the knell of reynard's death. 
Joyous it is for hunters to sit round 
The social table and recount the feats 
That each perform'd ! How loudly he exults, 



BIDCOMBE HILL* 121 

Whoclear'd th* opposing fence which others shunn'd. 
A harmless joy it yields in earnest chat 
To run the chase again guiltless of blood, 
And round the hearth its busy scenes renew. 

Near where the castellated mounds uprear 
Their crested heights o'er Mere's romantic vale, 
A lime-kiln stands where numerous sportsmen meet 
To match their rival dogs and pledge their stakes* 
Mounted on steeds of various hue and size 
They form in squadrons, and the heathy down 
Traverse throughout. But if the bleak east-wind 
Blow fiercely o'er the hill, to Swincombe vale 
Descending, they dislodge the sheltered hare 
And cheer the gaze-hounds to the flying prize. 
Swift as the wind she climbs the grassy steep, 
And on its summit mingles with the crowd. 
Now by an instantaneous turn she throws 
The dogs ready to seize their prey, and down 
The precipice with flight unequall'd scours. 
Her foes advance. She baffles all their skill 
By sudden double, and 'midst echoing shouts 



122 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

Enters the thicket and escapes with life. 
Lo ! on a sudden every voice is hush'd, 
For waves the signal that fresh game is found, 
To furnish relaxation to the throng. 
The fleetest dogs in rival districts bred, 
And each the fleetest that each county boasts, 
Are now uncoupled to dispute the prize. 
The game is started and the dogs pursue. 
One gets the lead ; the other overtakes 
And keeps ahead, till the exhausted hare 
(Her flight impeded by the fallow land, 
O'er which she passes to the sheltering copse) 
Yields to impetuous Spring the palm of speed* 
She offers no resistance 'gainst the fangs 
Of her combin'd and overpowering foes, 
But imitates the wailing infant's cry, 
To stir instinctive sympathy in man. 
Fictitious sensibility condemns 
The healthsome recreations of the chase ; 
Yet shall the Muse the rural pastime sing 
Which nature sanctions and which man enjoys.- 
By Heaven it is permitted or decreed 



felDCOMBE HILL. 1£3 

That thro' Creation's bounds weakness to strength 
Its life should yield an unresisting prey. 
The lordly lion rushes from the brake, 
Hunting to death the unoffending stag. 
The tyger prowls and couches near the brink 
Of some pellucid rill : The steer draws nigh 
His thirst to slake, and from his ambush'd foe 
Encounters death. The ravenous bird of Jove 
Alights from his aerial altitude, 
Seizes the leveret, dove, or new-born lamb, 
And bears them off to feed his ravenous brood. 
Nature's high law the birds and beasts obey, 
Imprest upon their hearts by Nature's God ; 
And say, vain man, did not the same great cause, 
Give to the fox and hare to scent the ground, 
And to the hound his instinct and his speed ? 
Now sensibility thy scorn forbear; 
Transfer thy love from brutes to love of man, 

Behold yon ridge of height irregular, 
Where Doulting Steeple terminates the view . l 
Barren and cold the Mendip Range appears 



124 BIDGOMBE HILL. 

Where sheep diminutive their food purloiar 
From scanty pasture, and the rabbits lurk 
'Midst heath, fern, furze, or subterranean cave* 
Under the surface of the barren soil 
Is dug the Calamine, whose magic power 
Transmutes dull copper into shining brass. 
Deep in the bowels of sulphureous mines 
The fossil lies, which excavators dig 
For culinary or domestic use, 
And which hydraulic engines draw to land. 
Ah ! whilst we sit around our social hearths,. 
We little dream how damps mephitic rise 
And by explosion scatter wounds and death 
'Midst the unconscious gang. Oh ! let us think 
When we are solac'd from the wintry cold, 
How oft we owe our joy to others' pain. 

Oft times the minstrels err whose music dwells 
On blessedness which haunts the woodland scene, 
Else the lone cot on Roddenbury Hill 
Had ne'er been stain'd indelibly with blood. 
Thoughtless profusion and connections base 



BIDCOMBE HILL. 125 

The fortune wasted arid the hearts deprav'd 

Of inexperienc'd youths. When from the town 

At midnight hour they pennyless return 'd, 

Their thoughts (distemper'd by satanic guile) 

Began to muse on predatory schemes. 

They kneel and then inaudibly to all 

(Except to Him, whose penetrating eye 

Explores the secrets of Man's inmost thoughts) 

Each other bind by oaths of secrecy. 

Two victims perish'd by inhuman blows 

Whose gore cried reeking from the ground to Heav'n 

For vengeance. Ah ! on yon chalky cliff l&** 

The culprits perish'd for their foul offence 

In prospect of the spot they mark'd with crime 

■ ■ •■ 
In looking round to catch the varied scenes 

Which seem to crave admittance in my song, 

A rival Hill appears, rais'd as it were 

By magic hands amid' the level plain. 

Against its fractur'd side the lime-kiln leans 

Whence issuing clouds majestically roll 

As from a crater of volcanic gulph. 



■ fitffmi 



126 BIDCOMBE HILL* 

On the feast-day when christians celebrate 

Messiah's entry to Jerusalem 

? Midst loud Hosannas on the palm strewn way ; 

Thither a motley group each year repair, 

With contest to sustain parochial rights. 

The rival candidates commence their sports, 

While anxious damsels watch their various feats 

And stimulate the disputants to fame. 

O happy land, where high and low are blest 

With equal liberty and equal law. 

What tho' the hind bronz'd with solsticial toil, 

Bend o'er the plough or drive the echoing flail ; 

Yet Sabbath rest recruits exhausted strength, 

And once a year the festival returns 

When to the summit of the hill he climbs 

And midst innocuous revelry forgets 

The little squabbles of domestic life 

And the loud tempests that convulse the world. 

Where is the heart that every blessing shares 

Which law, and liberty, and rest can give, 

But throbs with pity for their harder lot, 

Who led by curiosity to view 



BIDCOMEE HILL. 127 

The piHag'd honours of Italian states ; 

Or who, perhaps, had roam'd in quest of health 

To Gallia's balmy clime and mineral springs, 

(For surely none e'er cross'd the waves to bow 

At Usurpation's footstool) now remain, 

In breach of every hospitable tie, 

Degraded exiles on an alien shore. 

Upon the branches of the willow-trees, 

Which o'er the Meuse's current droop, they hang 

With souls averse from melody their harps, 

And whilst with downcast looks they pace its brink, 

The river dimples with their frequent tears. 

Tho' the vine's tendril and its cluster'd pride 

Entwine the elm or fringe the mountain rock, 

Yet who would not our shadowy clime prefer 

Where scarce a grape e'er ripens in the sun, 

(But where true liberty has rear'd her throne) 

To Gallia's sunny heights and blushing vales 

Where regicidal usurpation scowls ? 

Unhappy hostages on Verdun's plain 

May ye revisit our delightful hills ; 

At a safe distance from ambition's power 

Qr watch our gambols or partake our joy. 



128 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

Ne'er did I Bidcombe's lofty mount ascend, 
But I gaz'd fondly on the whiten'd steep 
Where the aspiring monument records 
Granville's imperishable fame. On days 
Long past I muse in melancholy thought, 
When on the summit of the hill I join'd 
My school companions in their varied sports. 
I pause to think how many blithsome youths 
Since that brief space have sped the way of death. 
Gay, as the flow'rets in their vernal pride, 
They bloom'd awhile, then wither'd like the rose. 
The day will never unremember'd pass, 
When thou, best lov'd companion of the day, 
Didst on thy couch lie dying. Thou didst dry 
Mine eyes redden'd with friendship's tears, and bid 
Me weep no more. Pure as the mountain breeze 
Thy spirit wing'd its flight from earth to Heaven 
To join the choir of winged cherubim. 
The tear will start, the bosom heave its sighs, 
Oft as I view the locket with thy hair 
(Cut from thy clay-cold head) still sacred kept 
A posthumous memorial of regard. 



BIDCOMBE HILL. 129 

We, whom grim death hath spar'd, are scatter 'd wide 

By various providences, to perform 

Our parts upon Life's theatre. Whilst some 

In ministerial love conduct their flocks 

To cooling pastures and to rills of joy, 

Others, whom martial inclinations fiVd, 

Unfurl the banner and provoke the fray. 

And here the muse of gallant Sidney sings 

Who routed first the Corsican, and tore 

From his dejected brow the withering wreath 

Of victory. Perhaps as once he marched 

The little captain of a puny host 

O'er Lansdown's trophied plain and wond'ring gaz'd 

On the memorial of great Granville's fame, 

Within his palpitating breast he felt 

The rising energies of valour glow — 

The first wild impulse for renown in war. 

Ye embryo warriors, statesmen and divines, 

Whom fancy seems to view from Bidcombe's top 

Sporting on Lansdown's turf, your hours employ 

In hoarding treasures for maturer age : 

Adorn your minds with wisdom's gems and blend 



130 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

Alternate studies with alternate sports ; 

So when your boyish days are flown away, 

And manhood comes with its attendant cares, 

Ye then may prove your country's ornament, 

As Lysons learned, or as Sidney brave. 

Surrounding Hills, with Lansdown as their chief 

Amphitheatric majesty display, 

To guard from northern winds the vale below, 

Thro' veins sulphureous and in mineral beds 

Their chrystal rills descend, and re-appear 

Reeking from caldrons. In old time some swine 

(As chance for acorns thro' the wilds they stray'd) 

Wallow'd in steaming mire. Their scurfy sores, 

From the foul taint of leprosy releas'd, 

First gave discov'ry of salubrious springs. 

From the remotest corners of the isle 

Flock'd sicken'd multitudes to quaff the stream 

Medicinal, and bathe their palsied limbs. 

The Roman legions, as they ponder'd o'er 

The healthsome founts, and saw their smoke ascend, 

Rais'd to Minerva a vicinal fane. 

Still fountains bubble and hot streamlets flow 



BIDCOMBE HILL. 131 

Impregnated with nature's chymic skill, 

Altho' the Goddess' tutelary rites 

No longer charm the waters of the sun. 

The Lazar-house its hospitable doors 

To victims of inveterate maladies 

Unfolds, and in its wide circumference 

Of charity embraces all that need 

The troubled waters of Bethesda's pool. 

But not the wholesome founts alone attract 

The scatter' d groups which crowd the lanes and streets ; 

By customary right the city proves 

Fashion's emporium, as the mart of health. 

Under its tutelary King of old # 

Diversions first allur'd a jovial train 

To drink of pleasure, whilst some drank of springs. 

Behold the youth, pale with no midnight lamp 

Or literary toil, but by the spell 

Of giddy and intoxicating sports : 

See the coy virgin, quitting rural scenes, 

Lose her rude health and witchery of face 

* Richard Nash, Esq, 



132 BID COMBE HILL. 

From crowded balls and suffocating heat, 

And hours abstracted from refreshing rest. 

I love to see the damsel and her swain 

For seasonable pastime court the dance, 

And by their heart's collision cause the sparks 

That kindle flashes of congenial flame; 

But my soul sickens at the madd'ning round 

Of midnight gaiety and ceaseless mirth, 

Whose sallies tire, whose repetitions cloy, 

And whose indulgence vitiates the taste 

For purer bliss, and more abiding joys. 

Meanwhile th' imprisoned school-boy plies his task, 

Untempted by surrounding gaiety, 

Nor intermits his literary toil, 

Save when he snatches intervals of ease 

In customary pastimes, or repairs 

ToLansdown's height or Charlcombe's flowery vale. 

But who that oft-felt ecstasy shall tell 

Which thrills the soul, illuminates the cheeks, 

And fdls the play-ground with uproarious joy, 

Oft as approaching festivals exchange 

Scholastic thraldom within city walls, 



B1DCOMBE HILL. 133 

For rural freedom and domestic hearths. 
Enraptured hours ! whose memory length of years 
Hath not eras'd from my affected heart. — 
Such are the thoughts which on the fancy press 
When Lansdown's range or summit I survey ; 
Such the reflections which engage my mind, 
When I descend to contemplate the vale 
Thro' which Avona winds her sluggish tide. 

Scarcely distinguish 'd from the azure tints 
Of clouds, the Cambrian Mountains rear their crests 
And by the aid of memory recall 
The tourist's prospects glittering from their heights. 
After a midnight ramble up the steep 
To Snowdon's mount, sublime it is to view 
The Sun emerging from his watery bed. 
Pleasant it is to ken Hibernia's strand, 
And in the vale betwixt fantastic rocks 
(Where wild goats skip from ledge to ledge for food) 
To mark the spot of faithful Gelart's grave. 
Once on Plinlimmon's highest peak I stood 



134 BID COM BE HILL. 

Saw mountain link'd to mountain, hill to hill? 
Forming a rampire round their central chief. 
The sterile view variety disclaimed, 
Save where the Severn and meandering Wye, 
From scanty sources, glisten 'd thro' the vale j 
Or where the Ystwith at a distance pour'd 
Into the brine its tributary wave. 
To Cader Idris' isolated crags 
I clomb, where once the Giant, thron'd in state, 
Defied eruptions of volcanic fire. 
From its distinguish'd summit I descried 
Amid' Salopian plains the Wrekin swell, 
And sheltered from the storm by Dinas-Bran, 
The far-fam'd beauties of Llangollen vale 
Upon whose willowy banks the Druid-seer 
Mutter'd his mystic spell, and green-rob'd bards 
Pour'd forth their unpremeditated strains. 
Hail to the dell, from whence the mountain rear* 
Its towering height, and guards from ruffian blasts 
Vale-Crucis' mouldering pile, and the sweet Cot 
Where friendship, taste, and charity reside ! 



BlDCOMBE HILL. 155 

Nor ye vicinal Hills, # where shepherds lead 
O'er earth-constructed battlements their flocks, 
Must ye remain unsung. From your high tops 
Dress'd in the rude habiliments of war 
The sturdy Briton view'd the gleaming mail 
Of foes, as from observatory's height 
With patient ken the astronomer surveys 
The comet's trailing radiance, with woe 
Surcharged to nations. Fortress insecure, 
For Roman legions from the ravag'd vale 
'Midst showers of darts ascend the citadel 
And from their trenches rout the flying hordes. 
Rude were the times, when first the eagle soar'd 
From Rome's seven hills and perch'd on Albion's cliffs. 
Intent on slaughtering conquest. In caves, 
Or huts which midway from the mountain hung, 
Or in small cities skreen'd by clustering groves, 
The natives dwelt. With vegetable juice 
They ting'd their cheeks, and with the hides of beasts 



Battlesbury and Scratchbury. 

k2 



336 BIDCOMBE HILL 

Sheltered their bodies from hybernai cold : 

Their chief delight the hazards of the chase, 

Which thro' much peril earird them scanty fare, 

And gave a taste for enterprize in arms. 

Milk was their drink, save when on festive days 

From shells they quaff'd metheglin's luscious draught. 

The winter past and equinox return'd, 

They exercised their piscatory art. 

When the rude fisher in his osier skiff 

Launch'd from the shore, the sport of every blast ; 

Ah ! little did he dream a time would come 

When British fleets would plough th' Atlantic main, 

Mount with the billow, with the wave subside, 

And brave the shocks of elements and war. 

The mystic circles on our hills were form'd, 

Some for judicial, some for sacred rites. 

If Druid died, or Hero fell in fight, 

Or Hunter perish'd in pursuit of prey, 

The corse was laid upon the funeral pile 

Its grosser particles to purify, 

Or to prevent dishonour to the dead. 

In excavated cell the ashes lie 



BIDCOMBE HILL. 137 

Cover'd with urns of rudely-figur'd clay. 

War's foreign implements or ruder celt, 

Spoils of the chase and amulets and rings 

Mark'd the distinction of sepulchral dust. 

Of conic form a tumulus was rear'd, 

Which pointed out to visitants the spot 

Where lay the mouldering tenement of souls. 

Such were the manners of the ancient stock 

From whom the line of ancestry we trace. 

Hail we the legions of imperial Rome, 

Under whose fostering discipline and care 

Britain advanc'd progressively in arts. 

The scatter'd tribes in social compact join'd ; 

The soil, by better management improved, 

With double crops repaid the labourer's toil. 

The clay, which rude artificers had cast 

In uncouth vessels for domestic use, 

Modell'd by lathes and glaz'd by artists' skill, 

Assum'd a form of elegance and taste. 

Their minds, detach'd from modes of savage life, 

Were soon prepar'd for polity and law. 

But whilst from Roman intercourse they drew 



138 BIDCOMBE HILL, 

The arts and usages of social life, 

The imperial conquerors never could unfold 

Jehovah's attributes, nor penetrate 

Eternity that lies beyond the tomb. 

The mental vision borrow 'd gleams of truth 

From Plato's page, which like the forked flash 

Blaz'd for a moment with bewildering light, 

And then escap'd in more terrific gloom. 

At length the day-spring from the enlighten'd east 

Began to dawn on this benighted clime. 

The genius of impure idolatry 

To the dark shades appall'd and sick'ning slunk, 

Chas'd by truth's brighter ray. The solemn grove 

The unhewn column and the cavern'd rock 

Resign'd their rank, as fanes to Deity. 

Nor when the Sun in noontide splendor shone, 

Nor when the Moon her ample circuit rode, 

(Stars her attendants) did the Briton bow 

Obsequious as before, but knelt to Him 

Who fix'd their power to rule the day and night* 

Then magic ceas'd and necromantic arts 

Sunk to the regions whence they first emerg'd. 



BID COMBE HILL. 139 

Ood's attributes which long had been obscur'd 
By grossest mixtures of barbaric rites, 
Were understood. The nature too of man 
And his high destination were denned. 
Boundless in power, indefinite in space, 
And universal in benevolence 
The Deity was seen, and man appeared 
Ransom'd from sin by merit not his own, 
The adopted child of God, and heir of Heaven. 

Form'd by the covert of funereal firs 
Behold a circlet of the silver tide 
Gleam in the mid-way view, whose waters spring 
From source pellucid as Castalia's fount. 
In pebbled brook the woodlark us'd to lave 
Her speckled plumes, courting the noon-day beam, 
And the wild-roebuck slak'd his evening thirst 
From the cool current of the murmuring rill. 
By mound restrained, the streamlet forms a lake 
Over whose congregated mass of waves 
The heron screams, and wild-fowls swim secure, 
Save when the light canoe or venturous skiff 



140 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

Invades their haunts. Then clashing, as they rise, 

The recreant wave, a safer element 

They penetrate, and wheel their airy course . 

Contracting by degrees their range of flight, 

They hovering drop in some sequester'd nook, 

And lurk amidst the sedge that skirts the shore 

'Till evening shades descend. Oh ! had the rill 

Still sped thro' glens its unambitious course, 

Remembrance could not now recall the day 

When sad disaster overtook the crew 

Unconscious of their doom. The sudden gust 

Rav'd in the slacken'd sails ; the o'erbalanc'd bark 

ReePd to the blast and whelm'd them in the deep. 

Who shall describe the piercing shrieks, or paint 

The agonizing looks or folded hands 

Of the large throng that press'd Sheerwater's shore ? 

E'en whilst I distantly review the scene 

Mark'd with vicissitudes of joy and grief, 

A shivering sense of pain thrills thro' the heart, 

Which says in periods little understood 

And by fatalities they never dreamt, 

It is to men appointed once to die. 



BIDCOMBE HILL. 141 

Upon the summit in the distant east 
By day the beacon smok'd, by night it fiam'd, 
To warn the Saxon of advancing foes. 
Each hurricane, that rustled from the north, 
Landed a crew of ruffians on the strand, 
To prey like locusts on the fruitful vales 
Of England's temperate clime. Those days, 

thank Heav'n, 
Have sped, and tenants of the loneliest cot 
Apart from harm and apprehension sit 
Under their fig-trees and embowering vines. 

Beneath the height, where Beacons flam'd, exist 
The grandest relics that our country boasts 
Of proud antiquity, yclep'd Stonehenge. 
On the unsheltered plain huge columns stand 
By architraves kept steady to their point, 
Whilst others, tottering, threat an instant fall, 
And others lie in rude confusion hurPd. 
No wight dare calculate the ponderous stones 
Which in concentric circles form the fane, 
Lest 'ere the revolution of a year 



142 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

He pay the dreaded penalty of life. 

Whether, as History tells, the structure stands 

A monument of Hengist's murderous guile 

To conclav'd Britons under Vortigern ; 

Or whether rais'd by rude Phoenician hands ; 

Or, in a period less remote, it gave 

To Danish Kings investiture, is wrapt 

In unimpenetrable mystery. 

The Enthusiast guided thither by the moon 

Excogitates the Druid's mystic rites, 

Which from the Altar-stone once biaz'd to Heaven ; 

Whilst in the curlew's plaint, mingling with winds. 

He feigns the notes of Bardic minstrelsy. 

Whether by native, or by foreign force 

The pile was rear'd to occupy the plain ; 

Still in its bulk magnificent it stands, 

To draw man's wonder, but eludes his skill 

To trace its designation and its age. 

Where dancing elves, of form diminutive, 
Impress the sheep-walk with inform al rings ; 
And plovers with their deprecating cries 



BIDCOMBE HILL. 143 

And mock aggression fright the shepherd's boy ; 

And distant mountains aggrandize the scene ; 

And combs and vallies smile in nearer view, 

The Danish Barrow meets the Pilgrim's steps 

Of lengthen'd figure and enormous bulk. 

Within its turf-clad cemetry lie hid 

The giant skeletons of England's foes 

By royal Alfred in encounters slain. 

No flames consum'd their dead ; no sacred vase 

Inclos'd their ashes purified by fire. 

Huddled they lie within sepulchral earth 

Apart from order and funereal care, 

Save in exact position to the north 

From whence they migrated for blood and spoil. 

Not so the tomb of conic form which lies 

At the reverse extremity of hill. 

Over the pile was laid the slaughter'd corse 

By valour rescued from contending foes. 

The remnant bones, (by fiery action cleans'd) 

The linen bleach'd and polish'd skewer entwin'd. 

A brazen spear, wrought by Phoenician hands, 

)Vhich oft' in hurried combat had evinc'd 



144 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

Its fatal power, secur'd the sacred cell. 
From earth circumjacent a mound was rear'd 
Which clos'd the rites of Celtic sepulture, 
And by its height denotes a chieftain's grave. 

Tir'd with my rambles oft times I repose 
Upon the mound, where the Arch-druid's dust 
Lay undisturbed, till antiquarian zeal 
Explor'd the obsequies of ages past 
And fix'd their era from peculiar rites. 
Once as I slept upon this turf-clad couch 
A crowd of venerable forms appeared 
To Fancy's eye, array'd in priestly stoles, 
Their chief presiding with official wand. 
Attended by a train of minstrel Bards, 
With pendent harps, they pac'd the sacred grove, 
Thro' whose bewildering labyrinths the Moon 
Darted her beam and newly-kindled pyres 
Flash'd thro' the glades with intermitting flames. 
Under the canopy of veteran oaks 
The mute procession halt. The banquet spread, 
They next prepar'd their superstitious rites. 



BIDCOMEE HILL. 145 

With garlands bound upon their crispy bows, 

Two white-milk steers in full-grown pride were led 

An holocaustic offering to Heaven. 

The sovereign Druid clomb the knotted oak 

To cut with golden hook mysterious plant. 

In vestment pure the duteous throng below 

Its fall arrested 'ere it reach' d the ground ; 

Then bow'd their heads with reverential awe. 

The beasts they slay, and from their entrails read 

Their country's destiny. They share the feast 

And give to revelry the midnight hour. 

At length with thongs methought I saw them bind 

One, whom the fatal lot had doom'd to death, 

And on the pile's replenish'd flames devote 

The struggling victim to their angry gods. 

The Druidesses weave the dance of death ; 

The Bards strike up the sacrificial hymn. 

Awaking from the visionary trance, 

I rais'd my eyes to Heaven and blest the Power 

Which in a fairer ground my lot had cast, 

And given me heritage. No victim bleeds 

Since sacred blood on Calvary's mount redeem'd 



146 



B1DCOMBE HILL. 



Man's forfeit life from death. The sacrifice, 

That rises most acceptable to Heaven 

Is prayer from contrite, praise from grateful hearts. 

* — But, hark ! what sounds come floating on the wind 

Are faintly heard, then die away in air ? 

Pause and listen. It is the muffled peal 

Telling the circle of the village throng, 

That the grim tyrant Death hath sped his dart, 

And huii'd some wight unmarried to the tomb. 

Matilda's dead. She, poor unhappy maid, 

In the gay season of her spring-tide bloom, 

Is gone to moulder with her father's dust. 

Stay, traveller, stay, nor grudge one piteous tear 

At her untimely fate ;. stay, traveller, stay, 

And listen to the tale of sorrow's child. 

The young Matilda, in her beauty's prime^ 

Inspir'd each bosom with the glow of love. 

The hue of health blush'd on her dimpled cheeks > 

Joy and affection sparkled in her eyes, 

And winning smiles that play'd around her brow, 

Proclaim'd the happiness that dwelt within. 

Soon as the signal from the household bird 



BIDCOMBE HILL. 147 

Announc'd the morn, she ply'd her usual task. 
Heedless of ills she sung her matin strain 
Sweet as the music of the early lark ; 
Soft as the murmurs of the winding stream, 
She only knew a widow'd mother's care: 
No father's mandate or restraining hand 
Check'd the wild wanderings of her erring steps. 
Oft' would she quit th' unfinished task to walk 
Or on the wood-fring'd hill or daisied mead 
In amorous dalliance with the swain she lov'd. 
The genial freshness of the balmy breeze ; 
The sheltering copse and love's alluring tale, 
Conspir'd with gloom of evening to seduce 
From Virtue's path her hesitating steps. 
Long did she cherish the beguiling hope 
That her dear Albert would redeem his vow 
And make her his before " the holy man." 
No Albert comes to realize her wish 
And drive suspicion from her aching heart. 
In frequent ravings of delirious grief, 
She would invoke the dear tho' perjur'd youth 
By proofs of love to intercept despair 



143 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

And snatch her from the prison of the grave. 
No Albert conies. Her kinsfolk and her friends 
Shun the contagion of her sicken'd couch 
And like the herd fly from the stricken deer. 
All earthly comfort gone, to Heaven she turns 
Her faded eyes brilliant with rising tears, 
And wrings her hands in speechless agony. 
Pleas'd at the moral change the priest attends, 
And mingles benedictions with his prayers. 
The floods of anguish overwhelm her cheeks ; 
Convulsive sobs denote a contrite heart. 
A smile would sometimes intervene to shew 
Her hope of pardon register'd in Heaven. 
Now, not unsuitably she recollects 
The Magdalen, who bath'd Christ's feet with tears 
And wip'd them with the tresses of her hair. 
Her languid pulse beats low. Her hollow eyes 
Sink in their sockets dim. With faltering lips 
She mutters her destroyer's still lov'd name, 
And dies in peace with him and all the world. 
On troubled waves Matilda's fragile bark 
Was laimch'd to sail along the dubious course 



BID COMBE HILL. 149 

Of life. No pilot govern'd at the helm 
To shun surrounding dangers, and to steer 
Her erring vessel to its destin'd port. 
Driv'n by the whirlwind, toss'd about with storms, 
At length she founder'd in a sea of woes. 
Who will not shed the tear of sympathy, 
And mourn the wreck of innocence and love ? 
That blessed charity, which all things hopes, 
Shall spread Oblivion's curtain o'er her faults ; 
Her tale the Pilgrim's journey shall beguile ; 
Her Albert e'en shall weep, and virgins dress 
With flowers the grave where a frail sister sleeps. 

Within a vault of yonder Gothic pile 
The patriot Seymour rests, who dar'd to found 
His country's greatness on the people's rights. 
Not such the fortune of the Regicide : 
Self-exiled from the land which gave him birth, 
He fled a wanderer to Helvetia's vales, 
Where, at a distance from his father's shrine, 
His ashes tenant an inglorious tomb.* 



* 1 Kings xiii. 22. 
L 



150 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

Nor such the fortune of the frantic maid, 

Who, plunging headlong 'midst o'erwhelming waves*. 

Clos'd a career of agony and shame. 

Her corse, dishonour'd by the lawless deed,, 

Was destin'd to an ignominious cell, 

A warning to the way-worn passenger 

Ne'er to presume audaciously to snatch, 

From God's high power, the thunderbolt of fate* 

What tho' nor choral anthems swell'd the gale 

Nor slow procession pac'd behind the bier, 

The rustling aspens shall a requiem sing,, 

And willows their dishevell'd tresses wave 

In elegant simplicity of grief 

Over the sod where lies the suicide. 

'Tis said her spectre burst the nether world, 

And seem'd with piteous looks to crave the rites 

Of Christian sepulture. Some pious friend 

Amid' the gloom of evening mutter' d o'er 

The service of the dead, and threw the dust, 

Thrice-scatter'd, o'er her grave. The unhallow'd spot 

Is sanctified, and lo ! her spirit rests. 

Fain would the Muse descant on ancient scenes 



BIDCOMBE HILL. 151 

Which lie within circumference of view. 
Some relics mock inquisitive research ; 
Their tale is perish' d on the scroll of time. 
Such Woodhouse-Castle is. The neighbr'ing lake 
Reflects upon its marge the ash and oak, 
Which once reflected battlements and towers. 
The banner' d hall is carpeted with sward, 
Which once resounded with obstreperous mirth. 
The mound and ditch no more secure retreat, 
Or mock the efforts of advancing foes. 
Silence and desolation reign supreme. 
The antiquary treads the terrac'd height 
Or sits amidst the ruins unconcern'd, 
Whilst others mark vicissitude of state 
And muse in thought upon the wreck of worlds. 

Embower'd amidst the watery vale below 
The ruins of an ancient Priory stand. 
Now horses neigh and the fierce mastiff howls, 
Where holy men in sacerdotal robes 
Once raised their sacred orisons to Heaven, 
See how the tottering fragments keep their ground, 
L 2 



159, BIDCOMBE HILL 

Clasp'd by the ivy's strong embrace. BehoM 

The gadding plant throw its green mantle round 

The fractur'd walls, clad by whose friendly garb^ 

They still resist the injuries of time, 

And brave unmov'd the desolating storm. 

So have I seen the high-aspiring youth 

Protection spread round veteran friend, « and save 

His feet from falling and his eyes from tears. 

N ear stands a scathed yew marking the spot 

Where once monastic priests inhum'd their dead. 

Levelled the graves, and beasts profane the ground 

Where earth was mix'd with earth, and dust with dusjfc. 

How mourns the mind viewing the ravages 

Of all-destroying time on vaulted roofs 

And consecrated turf. But check thy grief;. 

Reserve the sigh of sensibility 

For themes more worthy of thy tears. Behold 

Yon Tor, amid the blue expanse, which marks 

The space exact where Glastonbury's pride 

Is crumbling to its fall. In ancient times, 

As old traditions tell, the godly man, 

Who bore Christ's cross and in a rock entomb'd 



BIDCOM^E HILL. 153 

His pierc'd and bleeding body, thither came, 

To civilize by holy rules the minds 

Of barb'rous islanders. Into the ground 

His staff he thrust ; like Aaron's rod it bloom'd. 

Messiah's birth-day still it greets with flowers 

Which frost empearls and not the morning dew. 

The Briton spurn'd his rites idolatrous, 

And bow'd his knees at the Redeemer's name. 

Of wattled twigs (roof'd with aquatic sedge) 

A church is form'd for christian proselytes. 

Mean edifice to celebrate the praise 

Of Heaven's high Monarch and His only Son ! 

But He whose temple is an upright heart 

Approves the deed and consecrates the fane. 

When the rude heap, which rustic hands had rear'd 

In shape uncouth, lay levell'd with the dust, 

A loftier fabric instantly arose 

With turrets crown'd and Heaven-directed spires. 

There pious votaries flying from the world 

And all the vain solicitudes of life, 

Resign'd their souls to privacy and prayer. 

Not so the abbey's mitred chief. He claim'd 



154 BIDCOMBE HILL, 

Free relaxations from monastic vows, 
And less restraint from Benedictine rules. 
When on his steed caparison'd he rode, 
Accoutred horsemen follow'd in his train. 
When in refectory he grac'd the feast 
With richly-vested guests, the cowled monks, 
By fasts emaciate and thro' vigils pale, 
Chanted their hymns to bless his rich repast. 
'Tis said, that when at altar's foot he knelt 
With sorted garments rob'd for sacrifice, 
The wafer on his consecrating touch 
Its substance us'd to change, and vinous juice 
The essence caught of life's sanguineous tide. 
The prostrate crowd in duteous faith embrace 
The mystery profound. The organ swells 
With notes of echoing praise, and fretted aisles 
And vaulted roofs with choral anthems ring. 
But where is now the venerable pile 
Where all his skill the architect display'd 
In effort to transmit monastic forms ? 
Alas ! save yonder Tor in wrecks it lies 
Scatter'd about by sacrilege and time, 



BIDCOMEE HILL. 155 

No more the pilgrim, from the distant coast, 

Shall entrance crave in speech uncouth and strange , 

To bow in duteous homage at the shrine, 

Or kiss the relics of some martyr'd saint. 

Rous'd by the thunder of the deep-ton'd bell, 

The monks no more reluctantly shall start 

From broken rest to matins or to lauds ; 

Nor shall the pealing organ's sacred voice 

Rekindle raptures in the good man's heart 

And charm his soul to ecstacy. The dome, 

Which once resounded with Messiah's praise, 

And chanted hallelujahs, is no more. 

What tho' corruption, thro' a lapse of years 

Contracted, scar'd the Christian from his pale 

Of ancient fellowship, yet let not man 

The mutilated monuments disdain 

Of old magnificence. Are there no ties 

To bind our gratitude to cloister'd cells ? 

Can we forget the day, when Vandal rage 

Wag'd against arts exterminating war ? 

When science to these seats secure retir'd 

(A friendless outcast) with her learned train. 



156 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

And hid the treasure which had 'scap'd the spoil 

Of hands barbarian 'midst these holy walls ? 

If Attic elegance e'er charm'd thine ear, 

Or Grecian story fir'd thine ardent mind, 

Think that perhaps to these retreats we owe, 

That Plato reasons and that Homer sings. 

Or if a tale of pity move thy breast 

To thoughts of charity and deeds of love, 

Think how benighted travellers on their way, 

Lur'd by the taper's hospitable glare, 

Here sought a resting-place for wearied limbs, 

And never sought in vain. Think on the crowd 

Who at the convent gate with crumbs were fed, 

The welcome relics of the plenteous board. 

The scanty pittance of the parish pay 

Was then unknown. The soul-disheart'ning badge 

Of vile dependence not as yet had mark'd 

The poor man's back, to tell the flaunting world 

He fed his wasting lamp with borrow'd oil. 

But not to England's isle alone confin'd 

The batter'd dome, the convent's vacant walls ; 

Lo ! frantic zeal in Gallia's proud domains 



B.1DCOMBE HILL. 157 

Levels to dust the abbey's towering pride, 

And sacrilegious fury dares intrude 

To violate the sanctity of cells. 

The Vestal, banish'd from her cloister'd home, 

Is forc'd to brave the tumult of the deep, 

To fly from perils by more cruel man. 

The exil'd Priests desert their native plains, 

And claim protection 'midst a host of foes. 

Our generous-hearted countrymen forget 

Their hostile land and superstitious rites, 

And by Samaritan benevolence 

Assuage their pain and stanch their bleeding wounds. 

An intervening hill and tufted trees, 
Hide from our view the castellated pile 
Where noble-minded Arundel dispens'd 
Bread to the hungry fugitives and rest : 
But fancy holds communion with the scene 
And sees, with rich embroider' d vest the priest 
Scatter perfume or elevate the host, 
Whilst prostrate and entranced worshippers 
In beatific musings visit Heaven. 



158 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

Altho' the Muse rejoices in the day 

When the church burst the bands of papal Rome 

And reformation made religion free, 

Yet when she views the ruin'd edifice 

Whose vaulted roof once echo'd with God's praise ; 

Or when she sees the sacred exiles roam 

Without a country and apart from friends, 

She cannot check the involuntary sigh ; 

She will not blush to drop some pitying tears. 

But while in melancholy guise I muse 

O'er the fallen grandeur of monastic domes, 

A modern Abbey rises to the view 

Mocking the majesty of ancient days. 

No more the sight of Glastonbury Tor 

Excite regrets that interest the soul ; 

The prouder pile from Fonthill's fir-clad mount 

Bursts on the sight and brighter dreams inspires. 

Thron'd on an eminence its turrets rise 

In height superior to the distant hills 

Which crown the view. Around its giant base 

Is spread an artificial wilderness 

Where gadding brambles wander, and where grow 



BIDCOMBE HILL. 159 

Trees of all tints and shrubs from every clime. 
The beasts, imprison' d by encircling walls, 
Instinctive wildness lose, and oft times crouch 
Nigh to our feet, or frolic thro' the glades* 
Here might the devotee or anchorite 
Detach his soul from sublunary dreams 
'Midst silvan labyrinths and cavern'd dells 
Impervious to the clouds and lights of Heaven. 
Let not the loneliness induce the wish 
To quit life's turmoil for sequester'd glens. 
Still let us mingle with the jostling crowd, 
Breathe liberty and cheer the drooping hearts 
Of fellow travelers, nor wish to retrograde 
From social duties to inactive gloom. 
Hither the Hero of the Nile repair'd 
And thro' the sacred portal first advanc'd. 
Lo ! when the doors on massy hinges turn'd, 
Upon the burnish'd glass the torches shed 
Their flaring light, and canopy and aisles 
Gleam 'd with effulgence as from setting sun. 
To greet the presence of the warrior-guest 
The board was spread with culinary art 



160 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

As when in olden time the mitred sire 

Furnish'd provisions for conventual feast. 

The tragic queen, Melpomene, appears 

Clad in funereal vestments, to display 

The finished efforts of dramatic skill. 

Lo ! Agrippina mingles with the guests. 

Her frantic gestures and impassioned air 

Pourtray the tempests that convulse her soul. 

In her clench'd hands she grasps the urn which holds 

The perfum'd ashes of her murder'd lord. 

She holds it up to Heaven ; implores the gods ; 

Then whirls it round her glowing countrymen, 

And summons Roman valour to avenge 

Her lost Germanicus. — The admiring crowd 

Do homage by their tears, and laud the scene 

Where nature yields precedency to art. 

But lo ! the house of banqueting is chang'd 

From scenes of revelry to tales of grief. 

E'en while from Bidcombe's elevated spot 

I view the structure where the hero quafPd 

Delicious beverage from the Wassel bowl, 

The muffled bells from villages around 



BIDCOM^E HILL. l6l 

Mingle rejoicing with alternate woe. 
I listen to the cheerful, tragic sound, 
And blend my sorrow with the tide of joy. 
The glittering prizes, which his valour earn J d y 
Shone with a dazzling lustre on his breast 
And drew the envious notice of the foe. 
Directed by unerring aim a ball 
Pierc'd thro' the trophy of his high renown, 
And laid him prostrate on the blood-stain'd deck. 
Loud acclamations from the adverse crew 
Join'd shouts tumultuous to the cannon's roar, 
To testify their joy at Nelson's doom. 
Cease barbarous foe to triumph o'er the wound 
Compass'd by Gallic artifice and fraud ; 
Forth from his dust shall other Nelsons spring 
To scour the ocean and avenge his doom. 
Soon as his ears were gladden'd with the cheer* 
Of victory, he bade his friends farewell, 
And casting up a grateful eye to Heaven, 
Expir'd. No more the dainties of the feast 
Shall hail his coming from the pomp of war 
Crown'd with the well-earn'd diadem of fame. 



162 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

No more the christian with admiring eyes 

Shall gaze upon the hero of the waves 

Who conquer'd with the out-stretched arm of God, 

The patriot twines amid' the laurel wreath 

The doleful cypress and funereal yew, 

Whilst from each heart spontaneous accents rise 

To speak a nation's gratitude to Heaven. 

His gladden'd country wears the face of grief, 

Resembling most the clouded orb of day 

Sparkling 'midst gloom arid glorious e'en in tears, 

Oft' as the hind shall ken yon sacred pile, 

The honest drops shall gather in his eyes; 

A tear of sorrow mix'd with tears of joy. 

Nor should the Castle's wreck unnotic'd stand 

Where in the civil wars th' intrepid Blanch 

Maintain'd the fray assign'd her by her Lord, 

Whilst from contiguous height th' artillery pour'd 

Its vollied thunder on the riven pile. 

At length by subtlety the opposing force 

Admittance gain'd. Then did the fraudful band 

Betray their promises of liberty, 

And foes, as much to woman-hood as Kings, 



BIDCOMBE HILL. 163 

Sever'd the children clinging to her breast. 

Rebellion, like enchanting witchcraft's sin, 

With speed accelerated urg'd its course, 

Nor stopp'd till stain'd with regicidal gore. 

Let memory blot the nauseating tales 

Of Scripture tortur'd to encourage crime 

And sanctify misrule. Let Temples ring 

With echoing lauds, whilst surplic'd Priests proclaim 

To all men, honour ; to the Brethren, Love ; 

Fear unto God and honour to the King : 

So shall no fiends, assuming forms of light, 

Again spread havoc, sacrilege, and death. 

Yon well-pois'd Tower, sublimely-eminent^ 
Shews to the curious passenger the spot 
Where Alfred, England's patriot King, unfurl'd 
The Saxon banner 'gainst the northern foe. 
Long had he mourn 'd his country desolate, 
Its commerce ravag'd and his subjects slain, 
Muttering revenge impracticable. 
In minstrels guise he seeks the hostile camp, 
Lulling suspicion by his magic harp, 



164 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

He sees the freebooters prefer the vale 

To the bleak bulwarks of their upland camp* 

Returning safely thro' the scatter'd foe 

His hardy friends he summons to the held. 

Who slay or intercept the unguarded host. 

A foreign spoiler from the adverse shore 

Dreams of invading Britain's sea-girt realm 

With more than Danish force. Infuriate hordes 

Long train'd to devastation burn to glut 

Their hearts with vengeance and their swords with blood. 

Spirit of Alfred ! from thy rest arise 

And teach us how to vindicate our wrongs. 

Alfred's great spirit is already here : 

It animates the peasant and the Prince. 

See in the fertile vales the shepherd quits 

His peaceful charge and trains himself for war. 

The plough-boy throws his woollen frock aside 

In scarlet clad, and beats his share to spears. 

The common cause to aid, the Monarch heads 

The patriotic list; e'en he, like Alfred burns 

On British ground to meet the braggart foe. 

If e'er the Gallic hordes 'midst darkest nights 



B1DCOMBE HILL. 165 

Shall 'scape our fleet and land on Albion's strand, 

The rash adventurers shall rue the hour 

When first from Boulogne's port they madly sail'd ; 

And when their pride is humbled to the dust 

As was the Dane's in Ethanduna's vale, 

To Heaven's great King shall rise the victor's shout, 

And to illustrious George the trophied tower. 

Wide-stretch'd beneath we trace the woodland scene 
Of fam'd Stourhead, where philosophic Hoare 
(Himself an artist and a patron too) 
Fosters sweet science and congenial taste. 
Forth from the mansion, where with mimic life 
The canvass glows and sculpture seems to breathe 
Fir'd by Prometheus, let remembrance stray 
Over enchanted scenes. The Gothic Cross, 
Which once adorn 'd the city's crowded square, 
In solitary grandeur lifts its head, 
Deck'd with the sculptur'd imagery of Kings. 
Quick bring the boat, and o'er the Stygian lake 
Conduct me, ferryman, to shades below. 

M 



166 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

As I descend the subterranean way 
Which to the grotto's cool retreat conducts. 
Fancy pourtrays the watchful Cerberus 
Guarding the entrance of the nether world. 
With proffer'd cates or music's notes disarm 
The monster's rage, whilst I pursue my way 
To view the beauteous Naiad of the stream 
Lull'd on her rocky couch by waterfall ; 
Or from his urn behold the water-god 
Discharge the rill which forms the source of Stour 
Escaping Pluto's realms, let Fancy lead 
To brighter scenes, where demi-gods and men 
Renew their pastimes in Elysium blest. 
There Hercules, with sinewy arm, is seen 
Grasping his club ; upon his scowling brow 
Defiance lowers. There Meleager boasts 
His conquest o'er the Calydonian boar, 
And bears its head, the emblem of his spoil. 
Livia too stands, like Ceres, with a sheaf, 
And chaste Diana with her crescent crown'd. 
Cecilia bring from yon baronial hall 



BIDCOMBE HILL. l67 

The eld bard's harp and sweep its magic chords ; 
The enthusiast's ear shall catch each dying fall, 
And echo shall reverberate the sound. 

Ah ! who on yon wide edifice can gaze 
Shining pre-eminent 'midst Marston's bowers, 
And not feel transport at the name of Boyle ? 
Religion and Philosophy combine 
To fold a wreath of never-dying fame 
Around the brow of their illustrious child. 
The sophisms of the Stagirite (which long 
Had bound in spells the mind) he overthrew 
And on the basis of experiment 
Grounded Philosophy. He never spake, 
Without a pause, Jehovah's awful name, 
Nor ever roam'd amid' Creation's works, 
But by spontaneous buoyancy his soul 
Mounted the skies in gratitude to Heaven. 
Hear this ye sceptics, who with jaundic'd ken 
Survey the wonders of Almighty power, 
And dare dispute the Sovereignty of Him 
Of earth the King, of Heaven the Lord of Lords. 



l6S BID COMBE HILL. 

How can ye Nature's miracles explore ; 
The vault of Heaven, sparkling with living gems ; 
The earth with aptitudes for man and beast; 
The cloud-capt mountain and the enamell'd vale ; 
The purling rill and ocean's billowy roar, 
O'erlooking Nature's God ? Vain men renounce 
Your " Science falsely called" nor scorn the truths 
Rever'd by Newton, Bacon, Locke, and Boyle. 

In yonder vale, beneath the tufted mount, 
Is the neat cot where Reverend Theron dwells. 
The watchful pastor of the village flock ; 
The dear companion of life's ripening years, 
Link'd arm in arm on Isis' banks we rov'd, 
Conversing on the day when we should guide 
A rural charge thro' the strait gate to Heaven. 
Long would we linger by the classic stream, 
Musing on plans which ardent fancy fram'd, 
'Till chiming bells' from Merton's fretted tower 
Recall'd our footsteps to the house of prayer. 
The day long since hath dawn'd, which saw our hopes 
Chang'd to realities : now we converse 



BID COMBE HILL. 169 

Par from the venerable shade we lov'd, 

Of past adventures and collegiate friends 

With all the rapture past delights inspire. 

The crippled mariner who bled in war, 

To save the country where he toils for bread, 

Finds there a shelter whilst the torrent pours. 

Beside the social hearth he sits him down 

In momentary thoughtlessness of woe, 

And as he warms his weather-beaten limbs, 

Repeats the battles which his comrades won 

O'er Gallic fleets, and wins them o'er again. 

The soldier's widow, with her orphan babes, 

Unbosoms here her tale of buried grief; 

Hibernia's region how they left, to court 

A husband's and a father's last embrace, 

But 'ere their footsteps reach'd the sick man's couch, 

Death had bereav'd them of a parting kiss, 

And sent them back to travel and to mourn. 

O ! cruel war, the terror of the rich ; 

The poor man's curse ; why longer wilt thou spread 

Thy desolations o'er the ensanguin'd earth. 

Great God of mercy ! hear a kingdom's cry ; 



170 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

Compose the jarring universe to peace ; 
Give anxious nations rest. And ye blest times, 
Millennium-days arrive, when once again 
The Heaven-descended messenger shall come, 
Bringing to earth sweet peace, to man good-will. 
In our Messiah's reign shall Concord's sound 
Enchant the ear hurried with martial din, 
And war's wild tumult be for ever hush'd. 
No more the soldier's widow shall unfold 
To Theron's weeping family her griefs, 
Whilst orphan children in their artless prayers 
Beg Heaven to bless their benefactor's store. 
Error shall flee from the benighted east, 
And Superstition's meteor flame shall set 
In everlasting night to rise no more. 
The unreluctant Musselman shall quit 
The fabulous Koran for the Book of Life ; 
The glittering crescent for the abject cross ; 
The conquering prophet for a martyr' d priest. 
No more the Hindu widow shall repose 
Her votive person on the funeral pile, 
Losing in fondness her excess of pain, 



BIDCOMBE HILL. 171 

And blessing flames which waft her to her love. 
The obscuring scales of prejudice shall fall 
From the purg'd vision of the blinded Jews, 
And mad infatuation quit their hearts. 
Their scatter'd tribes to regions shall resort, 
Where once their temple aw'd and prophets sung, 
And where their promis'd Saviour liv'd and died. 
Him shall they see whose sacred corse they piercd, 
And hail Him King of Kings, and Lord of Lords. 
The earth with truth and knowledge shall abound 
As waters cover the expanse of seas. 
Blest season, hail ! O God, thy kingdom come. 

From distant scenes, excursive muse, return ; 
A subject nearer home demands thy song. 
Cast we onr eyes to the rich vale below 
And view the mansion and its turrets gleam 
Amid' the foliage of contiguous groves. 
Upon the site of consecrated ground 
The pile illustrious stands. Where once the monk. 
In pilgrim habit clad, forsook the world 
And with coarse diet mortified desire, 



]72 BIDCOMBE HILL 

Now dwell examples of connubial love 

And all the chanties that sweeten life. 

Thither the royal guest repair'd to sooth 

His anguish'd mind vex'd with the cares of state. 

Broken with age and robb'd of every joy 

Save what a conscience void of guilt imparts, 

The mitred outcast here a refuge found, 

'Till ripe in faith the gentle hand of death 

Led his declining footsteps to the tomb. 

Charm'd with the scene if Royalty depart; 

If the good Prelate with his dying breath 

Spread blessings round his benefactor's head, 

My humble muse shall not decline the song 

Of poesy to celebrate thy praise 

Lord of Longleat's demesne. The house of God 

(On scale too limited for those that bow 

At name of Jesus in the established fane) 

Enlarg'd by thee opens its friendly aisles, 

To which a duteous multitude resort 

To hear glad tidings of eternal life. 

Oft as at evening's close with hands to Heaven 

Uplifted, I address myself to Him 



BIDCOMEE HILL. 173 

Who is invisible, and supplicate 
Protection for my family and friends, 
With their's I mingle thy benignant name ; 
With equal warmth Heaven's benison implore. 
And ye, dear offspring of a happy pair — 
Ye scions grafted on a virtuous stock, 
Who round a table bountifully spread •*. 

Like olive branches tall and beauteous rise, 
Grow up and flourish to the utmost height 
Of your fond parents' animating hopes. 
Fancy presaging every good to come 
Beholds the bud unfolding by degrees 
Its embryo fruit in your expanding minds ; 
It sees the growing boughs enlarge their shade, 
Where houseless poverty one day shall find 
From heat a shelter and from toils repose. 

On two declivities the village stands 
Which forms the object of my pastoral charge, 
By rare locality and planter's art 
Fenc'd from the winds that sweep the upland plains, 
Escaping from its fount, the frequent rill 



174 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

Hurries its streamlet thro' the pebbled track, 
As on it gurgles to yon mass of waves. 
The cuckoo's earliest note of love is heard 
Amidst its bowers, and harbinger of spring, 
The swallow, skims the surface of the lake 
What time the violets scent the well-known bank 
Of sheltered hedgerow, which respectful zeal 
Presents an annual off'ring to the priest. 
In olden time the native youths display'd 
On customary spot # their arrowy skill ; 
Or on a level of the shaded green 
With buxom damsels frolic'd thro' the dance. 
The harmless recreations rid the heart 
Of half its burden. The distorted look ; 
The haggard eye-brow and the pallid cheek; 
The guileful mind and misanthropic heart 
Cause all true patriots to regret the loss 
Of rural gambols and enlivening sports 
Which chas'd bad humours, bade the face to glow 
With health's vermilion, furnish'd social joy 

* The Butts. 



BIDCOMBE HILL. 175 

And bound the peasant to his native land. 
Curious it was to hear the Sibyl tell 
Her barbarous tales of sorceries and ghosts : 
How witches rode triumphant thro' the air, 
And could for mischief every form assume 
Save of the harmless lamb, and of the beast 
Which bears upon its back the sacred cross. 
Then would she prate, how wicked spirits fled 
Sepulchral resting-place and craz'd the earth ; 
And how (whilst priests with solemn rites consign'd 
The recreant soul for hundred years to come 
Under the sod which still tradition marks) 
The whirlwinds rose ; the pattering hail-stones fell; 
The thunder bellowed ; skies with darkness frown'd, 
And only forked flashes lit the gloom. — 
Another Dame prophetic would remark, 
Whene'er the bell which call'd to evening prayer, 
Sent forth a hollow and funereal sound, 
It prov'd the knell of unexpected death. 
Then would she tell with seriousness of face 
That the old Priest, who long had gone to rest, 
Ne'er ask'd fair weather in his public prayers, 



176 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

But the Sun brighten'd and the storm was still ; 
Nor e'er implor'd relief from parching heat, 
But the clouds gathered and distill'd in showers. 
Nor will the Miller's tale be soon forgot, 
(Over whose head a century had roll'd) 
How at the grand eclipse unconscious birds 
Slunk prematurely to their nightly sheds, 
Whilst the pale inmates of the lonely pile 
Knelt in the fear that the last hour was come. 
Respectful feelings memorize the domes 
Where long-remembered hospitality 
Welcom'd its friends and ne'er forgot the poor. 
The gay or edifying chat went round ; 
On festive days the tale, the dance and song. 
These scenes, which sensibility recalls, 
Are clos'd for ever by the hand of death. 
In numerous cottages which meet my sight 
Oft' have I watch'd the lingering soul depart 
From its distemper'd tenement of flesh, 
Whilst on my knees I pour'd the dying prayer, 
Drown'd with the tears and stifled by the sobs 
Of friends surviving. Soon alas! too soon, 



BIDCOMEE HILL. 177 

They yield putrescent relics to the grave, 

Which fond regard from inhumation kept 

'Till decency demanded solemn rites. 

Then buried grief arose again in groans 

Or started from the lacrymary fount. 

A partial glimpse of the defaced cell 

Which hold an aged grandsire's mouldering clay, 

Caused the loud shriek which pierc'd the atmosphere. 

Mourners would sink the victims of despair, 

Did not a voice relieve the breaking heart 

" I am the resurrection and the life, 

He that believes in me shall never die.' 7 

Skreen'd from the view theVillageTemple stands, 

But jingling bells the vagrant fancy guide 

To the green spot from whence it points to Heaven. 

Rang'd in their different seats the sexes meet 

In comely order and in neat array. 

With heartfelt satisfaction I review 

The cheerful groupes which crowd its sacred walls, 

And hear them join in prayer with loud response, 

Or watch them listen to the Book of Life. 

Pre-eminent is seen the hoarv swain 



178 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

Who long had slunk to error's devious tract, 

But long recall'd to the good path he left, 

His voice is audible in songs of praise, 

His prayer is strong for stedfastness in faith. 

On his clasp'd hands his musing head reclines 

Whilst he attends to doctrine, or applies 

The sacerdotal blessing. In lengthening trains 

The thoughtful crowd depart, but ne'er forget 

Their usual salutations on the way. 

Some con the sermon ; others walk the fields 

And muse how lilies grow and birds are fed, 

And how the fruitful vallies laugh and sing. 

They, whom infirmity or age restrains 

From contemplating Nature's works abroad, 

(From which God ceas'd on this enlivening day) 

Frequent the borders where the tulips blow, 

Or mark the vegetable increment 

Thro' solar warmth and fertilizing showers ; 

Then ponder o'er the heavenly oracles, 

Or in the circle of judicious friends 

Conclude the evening of the day of rest. 



UidcoMbe hill. 179 

Thou too, my cot, whose humble roof I rear'd 
Amid the ruins of a falling pile, 
The muse shall not disdain to celebrate 
Thy calm retreat before is closM her song. 
Near to the consecrated house of prayer 
The straw-roof 'd cottage stands and overlooks 
The scatter'd hamlet and irriguous vale. 
No ornamental taste its front displays 
Save where the eglantine entwines the porch, 
And various shrubs combine their sweets to form 
From noon-tide heat an odoriferous shade. 
When my heart grieves, home to my cot I fly, 
And 'midst its bowers and tranquillizing scenes 
Forgive unkindness and forget its wrongs. 
When breezes fan the vernal air I lay 
The harp JEolian side way to the wind, 
Whose fairy minstrelsy transports my heart 
To thrilling ecstacy or melts to love. 
When summer sheds intolerable heat 
I seek the porch which courts the western breeze, 
And warm my fancy with historic tale, 
Or with diviner strains of poesy. 



180 BID COMBE HILL. 

I mark the distant landscape fade in air, 

And blend its tints with the cerulean sky^ 

Unable to discriminate between 

The azure hillock and contiguous cloud. 

When languid nature hails the setting sun 

I drench with aqueous nutriment the plant 

Whose root was withering in its parched bed, 

And lift the flower, which accident had laid 

Prostrate on earth, and aid it with support. 

Then do I seek the bower which fancy form'd 

And mine own hand had planted, to remark 

Its thick'ning foliage and sequester'd gloom. 

The goldfinch culls materials for its nest 

From lichens, moss, and dew-besprinkl'd fleece^ 

And marks a branch of the romantic shade 

To fix its work, which should when finish'd, prove 

Depository for its embryo young. 

Perch 'd on the blossom 'd pear-tree hear him charm 

His mate, as brooding o'er my head she sits 

In the security that no rash hand 

Will rob her store or interrupt her rest. 

When the earth trembles on its tottering base, 



BIDCOMEE HILL. 181 

Rent by the dread artillery of Heaven, 

Guarded from harm I watch the lightnings dart 

Their transient flashes o'er my domicile. 

Oft when in cataracts the rains descend 

And hurricanes depopulate the grove, 

Unmov'd amid' the elemental strife, 

I pen a sonnet to the angry storm. 

Sometimes the fate of Mariner I mourn, 

Who, far from port and farther still from friends, 

Views in each rising surge a funeral bier 

And in each yawning gulph a watery tomb. 

On bended knees methinks I see him wring 

His folded hands, then lift them tow'rds the sky 

With looks of desparation and affright. 

While the huge tear-drops dim the visual ray, 

He calls on Heaven to catch his faultering prayer, 

f O shield my babes and dry my widow's tears.' 

The suppliant's voice outrides the deafening blast, 

Pierces opposing clouds and reaches Heaven ; 

The god-like mandates, " Peace, be still," go forth, 

Hush'd is the whirlwind, and the sea is calm. 

I watch the starlings, as autumnal eves 



182 B1DCOMBE HILL. 

Slowly advance, fly to their nightly sheds 

In undulating motion, and in flocks 

Darkening the air. Scar'd by the falling leaf, 

They seek the reeds that bend with every gale 

But with no sound annoy, where they secure 

Andunmolested lodge, till every grove 

Is leafless ; then their stalky couch they shun, 

Till autumn spreads again its sickly hues 

And rustling foliaae renovates alarm. 

When Nature wears her winter's shaggy garb 

I sit beside the blazing hearth, not sad, 

Tho' solitary: oft witli books I cheer 

The hours, and not unfrequently with friends. 

Oft times fatigued with conning o'er the page 

Of ancient lore the volume I have clos'd, 

And from the open'd window gaz'd around 

To watch the smoke in trailing col urn us rise 

From cottages more lowly than my own, 

And see it mingle with the dusky cloud. 

Sometimes 1 view the congregated deer 

Follow the herdsman thro' the drifted snow* — 

Sometimes I mark with outstretch'd neck the swan 



BID COMBE HILL. 183 

Wing his high circuit thro' the low'ring Heavens ; 

At length resigning his aerial course 

Like a trim bark he breasts the gathering surge, 

His plumes the shrouds and his arch'd crest the prow. 

Hail quiet, sacred to the household gods ! 

Let the gay libertine 'midst cities roam, 

Diversifying pleasures with each day; 

Let me enjoy my peaceable retreat 

And give the crumbs that from my table fall 

(The trifling relics of a frugal board) 

To help the weary traveller on his way. 

When from my door the mendicant departs 

Content and happy with some pittance giv'n ; 

The benedictions which he leaves behind 

Shall rise like incense to the throne of God, 

Who gives the heart to feel another's woe, 

And opes the hand in pity to distress. 

Theron, my friend, (and I can call thee friend] 
The vagrant muse, returning from her flight 
O'er fairy scenes which Bidcombe Hill presents 
To her admiring view, bids thee farewell : 
Peace to our cots and solace to our hearts. 

N 2 



184 BIDCOMBE HILL. 

And, oh ! if God in all His dealings good 
Restricts my labours to this neighbourhood ; 
If those who knew my youth shall know my age, 
Journeying together thro' life's pilgrimage ; 
Then friends and neighbours when my race is run, 
Make my last home to front the rising sun • 
Its lively rays shall gild funereal gloom 
And chase Death's phantoms from around my tomb. 
But should my devious steps be doom'd to stray 
Far from the windings of this alpine way ; 
If I should migrate, in a distant soil, 
To higher duties and severer toil, 
Frequent remembrance shall recall the spot 
Where mirth was found the partner of my cot ; 
Fancy shall dwell upon the vale below, 
Where turrets glitter and where fountains flow; 
And Bidcombe's height rny musing thoughts employ 
Where winds waft health and every sound is joy. 



NOTES. 



NOTES 



Page 121. 



numerous sportsmen meet 



To match their rival dogs." 

v^oursing was a favourite amusement with our 
forefathers, nor was it altogether interdicted to 
Ecclesiastics. " Archieopiscopus Cant : et suc- 
cessores sui semel in quolibet anno cum trans- 
ierint per dictam forestam (de Arundel) cum 
una lesia de sex leporariis sine aliis canibus et 
sine arcu, habeant unum cursum in eundo et 
alium in redeundo." Spelman. 

Page 123. 
" Its life should yield an unresisting prey." 

"According to the established order of nature, 
the three methods by which life is usually put an 
end to, are acute diseases, decay, and violence. 
The simple and natural life of brutes is not often 



188 NOTES. 

visited by acute distempers ; nor could it be 
deemed an improvement of their lot, if they 
were. Let it be considered therefore in what 
a condition of suffering and misery a brute ani- 
mal is placed which is left to perish by decay. 
In human sickness or infirmity, there is the assist- 
ance of man's rational fellow-creatures, if not to 
alleviate his pains, at least to minister to his 
necessities, and to supply the place of his own 
activity. A brute, in his wild and natural state, 
does every thing for himself. When his strength, 
therefore, or his speed, or his senses fail him, he 
is delivered over, either to absolute famine, or to 
the protracted wretchedness of a life, slowly 
wasted by scarcity of food. Is it then to see the 
world filled with drooping, superannuated, half- 
starved, helpless, and unhelped animals, that you 
would alter the present system of pursuit and 
prey?' 7 Paley. 



Page 128. 



gaz'd fondly on the whlten'd steep 



Where the aspiring monument records 
Granville's imperishable fame." 

The turnpike road over Lansdown, (where a 



NOTES. 189 

monument is erected to Sir Beville Granville,) 
is plainly discerned from Bidcombe Hill. It 
was the scene of many a holiday sport. 

Page 130. 

" As Lysons learned, or as Sidney brave." 

Bath Grammar School (under the government 
of its late venerable and respected Master, Rev. 
Nathaniel Morgan) sent many young men into 
the world who have distinguished themselves in 
various departments of public life. Among 
these must be ranked a late distinguished an- 
tiquary, of whom the learned author of " the 
Pursuits of Literature'' makes the following 
mention : — " Samuel Lysons, Esq. F.R.S. and 
A.S. the most judicious, best informed, and 
most learned amateur antiquary in this kingdom 
in his department, Do lubeus manus Vitruvio. 
His work on the remains of the Roman Villa 
and Pavements at Woodchester, near Glou- 
cester, is such a specimen of ingenuity, un- 
wearied zeal and critical accuracy in delineating 
and illustrating the fragments of antiquity, as 
rarely has been equalled > certainly never sur- 
passed. Of the genius, judgment, knowledge, 



190 NOTES* 

and perseverance of this gentleman, in the 
department he has undertaken, it is difficult to 
speak in terms of sufficient approbation." p. 355. 
Sir William Sidney Smith was educated in the 
same seminary. Gentlemen who were his 
contemporaries have reported that he gave 
prognostics of his fame in the adventures of 
early life. 

Page 130. 

"Thro' veins sulphureous and in mineral beds 
Their chrystal rills descend, and re-appear 
Reeking from caldrons." 

"While Bladud, the only son of Lud Hudibras, 
the eighth King of the Britons from Brute, was a 
young man, he by some accident or other, got the 
leprosy, and lest he should infect the nobility and 
gentry who attended his father's levee with that 
distemper, they all joined in an humble petition 
to the king, that the prince might be banished 
the British court. Lud Hudibras finding him- 
self under a necessity of complying with the 
petition of his principal subjects, ordered Bladud 
to depart his palace; and the queen, upon her 
parting with her only .son, presented him with a 



NOTES. 191 

ring, as a token by which she should know him 
again, if he should ever get cured of this loath- 
some disease. The young prince was not long 
upon his exile, nor had he travelled far, before 
he met with a poor shepherd, feeding his flocks 
upon the downs, with whom after a little 
discourse about the time of the day and the 
variations of the weather, he exchanged apparel, 
and then endeavoured for employ in the same 
way. Fortune so far favoured Bladud's designs, 
that he soon obtained from a swine-herd, who 
lived near where Caynsham now stands, the 
care of a drove of pigs, which he in a short time 
infected with the leprosy : to keep this disaster 
as long as possible from his master's knowledge, 
he proposed to drive the pigs under his care to 
the other side of the Avon, to fatten them with 
the acorns of the woods that covered the sides of 
the neighbouring hills. Bladud had behaved 
himself so well in his service, and appeared so 
honest in every thing he did, that his proposal 
was readily complied with; and the very next 
day the prince provided himself with every thing- 
necessary, set out with his herd early in the 
morning, and soon meeting with a shallow part 



i$2 NOTES. 

of the Avon, crossed it with his pigs, in token 
whereof he called that place Swineford. 

Here the rising sun, breaking through the 
clouds, first saluted the Royal herdsman with his 
comfortable beams ; and while he was addressing 
himself to the glorious luminary, and praying 
that the wrath of Heaven against him might be 
averted, the whole drove of pigs, as if seized 
with a phrenzy, ran away, pursuing their course 
up the valley by the side of the river, till they 
reached the spot of ground where the hot springs 
of Bath boil up. 

The scum, which the water naturally emits, 
mixing with leaves of trees and decayed weeds, 
had then made the land about the springs almost 
over-run with brambles, like a bog, into which 
the pigs directly immerged themselves ; and so 
delighted were they in wallowing in their warm 
ouzy bed, that Bladud was unable to get them 
away, 'till excessive hunger made them glad to 
follow the prince for food : then by a satchel of 
acorns shook and lightly strewed before them, 
Bladud drew his herd to a convenient place to 
wash and feed them by day as well as to secure 
them by night; and then he made distinct crues 



MOTES. 193 

for the swine to lie in, the prince concluding 
that by keeping the pigs clean and separate, 
the infection would soon be over among the 
whole herd. And in this pursuit he was much 
encouraged, when upon washing them clean of 
the filth with which they were covered, he 
observed some of the pigs to have shed their 
hoary marks. 

Bladud had not been settled many days at this 
place (which from the number of crues took the 
name of Swineswick) before he lost one of his 
best sows ; nor could he find her, during a whole 
weeks diligent search, till accidently passing by 
the hot springs, he observed the strayed animal 
wallowing in the mire about the waters, and on 
washing her, found to his great surprize and 
astonishment, that she was perfectly cured of her 
leprosy. 

The prince now began to consider that the 
same means by which the sow got her cure, 
seemed very likely to effect his own, and there- 
fore instantly stripped himself naked and plunged 
himself into the sedge and waters, wallowing in 
them as the sow and other pigs had done ; and 
repeated it every morning before he turned out 
his herd to feed, and every night after crueing 



194 NOTES. 

them up : so that in a few days his white scales 
began to fall off, and by continuing every day 
to bathe in the mud and waters, he soon received 
(as well as his whole herd) the perfect cure he 
hoped and prayed for. 

Convinced of the powerful efficacy of these 
springs, Bladud returned home with his herd to 
his master, related to him the particulars just 
mentioned, and discovered who he was; at the 
same time assuring the swineherd of his pro- 
tection, and that as soon as he returned to court 
he would prevail on the king his father to make 
such presents as would fully reward him for his 
trouble. As soon as matters were prepared for 
the journey, the prince and his master set out 
for the palace of Lud Hudibras ; and after their 
arrival there, it was not long before Bladud 
found an opportunity, while the king and queen 
were dining in public, of putting the ring his 
mother had given him into a glass of wine that 
was presented to her ; which the queen, after 
drinking the liquor, no sooner perceived at the 
bottom of the glass, than she knew it to be the 
token she had given her son ; and with raptures 
cried out, ' where is Bladud my child?' 

At these words <m universal consternation 



NOTES. 195 

overspread the whole assembly ; and while the 
people were looking at one another with sur- 
prize and amazement, the prince made his way 
through the crowd and prostrating himself before 
the king and queen, he w r as thereupon to the 
great astonishment and satisfaction of his master 
received by them and all the nobles present, 
though in his shepherd's cloaths, with the utmost 
transports of joy, as the heir apparent to the 
British crown ; but could not be prevailed upon 
to tell where, or how he got his cure. 

Bladud had no sooner ascended the British 
throne, then he went to the hot springs where he 
had got his miraculous cure when in exile, made 
cisterns about them and built a place, which 
from thenceforward went under the title of Caer- 
bren, and became the seat of the British kings." 
Universal British Traveller. 

Page 135. 



In caves, 



Or huts which midway from the mountain hung, 
Or in small cities skreen'd by clustering groves, 
The natives dwelt. 

" Oppidum vocant Britanni quum siivas impe- 
ditas vallo atque fossa munierunt." Ccesar. 



196 NOTES, 

Page 136. 

" They exercis'd their piscatory art." 

The boats which the ancient Britons used for 
fishing, were constructed as are at present the 
Cambrian coracles. " Parva scapha ex vimine 
facta, quae contexta crudo corio, genus navigii 
praebet." Giraldus. 

"Britannos vitilibus navigiis corio circumsutis 
navigare." Pliny. 

Page 138. 

" At length the day-spring from the enlighten'd east 
Began to dawn on this benighted clime." 

" These were the multiplied advantages which 
our British ancestors received from the settlement 
of the Romans among them. The mechanical 
arts that had been previously pursued were con- 
siderably improved, and arts previously unknown 
were brought into it. The varied treasures of 
our soil were now first discovered, or were better 
collected. Our societies were combined into 
cities, our manners were refined into politeness, 
and our minds were enlightened with learning. 



NOTES. 197 

Agriculture, manufactures, and commerce, were 
introduced among the natives. 

These were 'considerable advantages, but they 
were attended by another which was far superior 
to them all, and in comparison of which all these 
united together must absolutely sink into nothing. 
This was that great, that momentous event, the 
introduction of Christianity. The Religion of 
an atoning Jesus was proclaimed. The Religion 
of an accepting Jehovah was now proposed to 
the inhabitants. And they were called upon to 
turn away from that deep night of ignorance, and 
and to shake off those heavy chains of depravity, 
in which they had unhappily continued from 
their first settlement among the woods and mos- 
ses of this district. The Britons listened to the 
voice of Revelation, and were incorporated into 
the Church of God. Thus was the only Reli- 
gion that could administer real comfort to the 
wildly-wandering soul of man first brought. 
There has it ever continued since, exalting the 
intellect and refining the passions, the parent of 
many a genuine saint. And there may it ever 
continue, the enlivening ray of our reason, the 
purifying principle of our conduct, till the crea- 
o 



1Q8 NOTES. 

tion shall sink in the final flame, and probation 
be succeeded by the final allotment/' 

Whitaker's Manchester. 

Page 144. 
Cf Oft'times I repose 



Upon the mound." 

" It was a usual thing among our old Saxon 
Ancestors, as by Tacitus it also seemeth among 
the Germans, that the dead bodies of such as 
were slaine in the field, were not laid in graves, 
but lying upon the ground covered over with 
turves or cloddes of earth : and the more in re- 
putation the person had been, the greater and 
higher were the turves raised over their bodies. 
This some used to call byriging, some beorging, 
and some buriging of the dead. Now because 
these byrighs or beorghs seemed as hills, the 
name of byrgh or beorgh became (though meta- 
phorically) all Germanie over to be the general 
name of a Mountaine. I am the more willing to 
shew the original meaning of this word, because 
of the number of places in England which end 
in bery, bury and burrow, originally all one, and 



NOTES, 199 

properly signifying to shroud or to hyde. The 
name also of burgh or burrough now commonly 
wryten burrow, which we give to some towns is 
from hence originally derived. Places first so 
called having bin with walls of turf or clods of 
earth fens'd about for men to be shrouded in, as 
in fortes or castles. And where the word burie 
is the termination of a city as Canterburie, Salis- 
burie, and the like, it metaphorically signifieth a 
high or chief place." 

Verstigan. 

Page 144. 

" A crowd of venerable forms appear'd 
To fancy's eye, array 'd in priestly stoles, 
The chief presiding," &c. 

" Non est omittenda de visco admiratio: 
riichil habebant Druides visco et arbore in qua 
gignatur (si modo sit robur) sacratius. Jam per 
se roborum eligebant lucos, nee ulla sacra sine 
ea fronde conficebant; ut inde appellati quoque 
interpretatione Graeca possint Aquifisg (Druides) 
videri. Enimvero, quicquid adnascatur illis, 
e coelo missum putabant; signumque esse electae 
ab ipso Deo arboris. Est autem id rarum 
o % 



200 NOTES. 

admodum inventu, et repertum magna Religione 
petitur, et ante omnia sexta lima, quae principium 
mensium annorumque bis facit et seculi post 
tricesimum annum; quia jam virium abund£ 
habebat, nee tamen sit sui dimidium, omnia 
sanantem appellantes suo vocabulo. Sacrificio 
epulisque rite sub arbore praeparatis, duos 
admovebant candidi colons tauros, quorum 
cornua tunc primum vinciantur. Sacerdos Can- 
dida veste cultus arborem scandebat, falce aurea 
dimetiens : candido id excipiebatur sago : tunc 
demum victimas immolant precantes, ut suum 
donum Deus prosperum faceret." 

Hicardi Corinensis Commentarioli Geographici 
desitu Britannia liber primus. Cap. 4. 

Page 145. 

" At length with cords methought I saw them hiud 
One, whom the fatal lot had doom'd to death." 

That the Druids sacrificed human victims is 
manifest from contemporary historians. 

" Cruore captivo adolere aras et hominum 
fibris consuleie deos fas habebant." 

Tac. ann. lib. 14. cap. 20. 



NOTES. 



201 



" Pro victimis homines immolant aut se im- 
molaturos vovent, administrisque ad ea sacrificia 
Druidibus utuntur, qu6d pro vita hominis nisi 
vita hominis reddatur, non posse aliter deorum 
numen placari arbitrantur." 

Cas. lib. 6. cap. 16. 

The method of selecting a victim by lot is to 
be recognized in a subsisting custom in a 
particular district of Scotland. " Upon the first 
day of May, which is called Beltan or Baltein 
Day, all the boys in the township or hamlet meet 
in the moors. They cut a table in the green sod 
of a round figure, by casting a trench in the 
ground of such circumference as to hold the 
whole company. They kindle a fire and dress 
a repast of eggs and milk in the consistence of 
a custard. 

" They knead a cake of oat-meal which is 
toasted at the embers against a stone. After 
the custard is eaten up, they divide the cake into 
so many portions as similar as possible to one 
another in size and shape as there are persons in 
the company. They daub one of those portions 
all over with charcoal, until it be perfectly 
black. They put all the bits of cake into a 
bonnet. He who holds the bonnet is entitled 



202 NOTES, 

to the last bit. Whoever draws the black bit is 
the devoted person to be sacrificed." 

Statistical Account of Callender, Perthshire. 

Page 146. 



:t It is the muffled peal 



Telling the circle of the village throng, 

That the grim tyrant Death hath sped his dart, 

And hurl'd some wight unmarried to the tomb." 

In the village of Hornirigsham, which lies at 
a short distance from Bidcombe Hill, it is cus- 
tomary, when any person dies unmarried, to ring 
a wedding peal on muffled bells, immediately on 
the interment of the corpse. The effect is 
singularly impressive. 

Page 149. 

" Within a vault of yonder Gothic pile, 
The patriot Seymour rests." 

" Under this marble are deposited the 

Remains of Sir Edward Seymour, Bart. 

Late of Bury Pomeroy, in the County of Devon, 

And of this place. 

A man of such rare endowments 

As added lustre to his noble ancestry, 



NOTES. 203 

Commanded reverence from his contemporaries, 

And stands the fairest pattern to posterity. 
Being often called to council, and always chosen 

in Parliament, 

(A friend to his Prince, a servant to his Country) 

He advised the King with freedom, 

The Senate with dignity. 

That Senate, the bulwark of English Liberty, 

In which he presided for several years, 

Found his eloquence an Advocate, 

His integrity a Guardian, 

His vigour a Champion for its privileges. 

Nor can any Englishman rejoice 

In that envied portion of his birth-right, 

The Habeas Corpus act, 

Without gratitude to the ashes of this Patriot, 

Under whose influence 

It became his Heritage. 

Born in the year 1633 

His childhood felt not the calamities 

Which in the succeeding years 

The spirit of anarchy and schism 

Spread over the Nation. 

His manhood saw the Church and Monarchy 

restored ; 

And he lived in dutiful obedience to both. 



204 NOTES. 

Loaden with honour, full of years, 

(Amidst the triumphs of his Country) 

Rais'd to the highest pitch of glory 

By that immortal Princess Queen Anne, 

He died 

In the year 1707. 

Francis Seymour, Esq. in just veneration 

For the memory of his illustrious Grandfather, 

And in due obedience to the last will and testament 

Of Lieutenant General William Seymour, 

Second son to the deceased Sir Edward, 

Hath caused this monument 

to be erected. 

1730." 

Page 149. 
" Not such the fortune of the Regicide." 

Edmund Ludlow lived at Maiden Bradley, 
near to Sir Edward Seymour, by whom his 
return to his native country was opposed. He 
died and was buried at Vevay, in Switzerland. 

Page 150. 

" Nor such the fortune of the frantic maid, 

Who plunging headlong 'midst o'erwhelming waves 

Clos'd a career of agony and shame." 



NOTES. 205 

On the cross-roads between Horningsham and 
Maiden Bradley is a well-known spot where an 
unfortunate female was unceremoniously interred. 
In an age when self-murder is so frequent, the 
observations even of a Pagan are not unworthy 
of regard : " nisi Deus istis te corporis vinculis 
liberaverit, hue tibi aditus patere non potest. 
Quare et tibi et piis omnibus retinendus est 
animus in custodia corporis; nee injussu ejus a 
quo ille est nobis datus, ex hominum vita mi- 
grandum est." Cicero. 

Virgil in enumerating the inhabitants of the 
infernal regions mentions the Ghosts of those who 
had laid violent hands on themselves : 

"Proxima deinde tenent moesta loca qui sibi 
lethum 
Insontes peperere manu, lucemque perosi 
Projecere animas." Mn: 6. lib: 

Page 150. 



" Some pious Friend 

Amid' the gloom of evening muttered o'er 
The service of the dead, and threw the dust, 
Thrice scatter'd o'er the grave." 

It may not perhaps have been generally re- 
marked that the custom of throwing dirt thrice 



206 NOTES. 

over a coffin during a particular portion of our 
burial service, is borrowed from a Roman Cere- 
monial ; " injecto ter pulvere curras.'' Hor. 

Page 156. 



perhaps to these retreats we owe 



That Plato reasons and that Homer sings," 

"That extreme avidity for the works of the 
ancient writers which distinguished the early part 
of the 15th century announced the near approach 
of more enlightened times. 

Whatever were the causes that determined men 
of wealth and learning to exert themselves so 
strenuously in this pursuit, certain it is that their 
interference was of the highest importance to the 
interests of posterity, and that if it had been much 
longer delayed, the loss would have been in a 
great degree irreparable, such of the manuscripts 
as then existed of the ancient Greek and Roman 
authors being mouldered away in obscure corners 
a prey to oblivion and neglect. It was therefore 
a circumstance productive of the happiest conse- 
quences, that the pursuits of the opulent were at 
this time directed rather towards the recovery of 
the works of the ancients, than to the encourage- 



NOTES. 207 

ment of contemporary merit. Induced by the 
rewards that invariably attended a successful en- 
quiry, those men, who possessed any considerable 
share of learning, devoted themselves to this occu- 
pation ; and to such a degree of enthusiasm was 
it carried, that the discovery of an ancient manu- 
script was regarded as almost equivalent to the 
conquest of a Kingdom. Of all the learned men 
of his time Poggio Bracciolini seems to have de- 
voted himself the most particularly to this em- 
ployment, and his exertions were crowned with 
ample success. The number of manuscripts dis- 
covered by him in different parts of Europe 
during the space of near fifty years will remain 
a lasting proof of' his perseverance and sagacity 
in these pursuits. Whilst he attended the coun- 
cil of Constance in the year 1415, he took an op- 
portunity of visiting the Convent of St. Gallo, 
distant from that City about 20 miles, where he 
had been informed that it was probable he might 
find some manuscripts of the ancient writers. In 
this place, he had the happiness to discover a 
complete copy of Quintilian, whose works had 
before ' appeared only in a mutilated and imper- 
fect state. At the same time he found the three 
first books, and part of the fourth of the Argo- 



208 NOTES. 

nautics of Valerius Flaccus buried in the obscu- 
rity of a dark and lonely tower: covered with 
filth and rubbish, their destruction seemed inevi- 
table. By his subsequent researches through 
France and Germany, Poggio also recovered 
several of the orations of Cicero. At that time 
only eight of the Comedies of Plautus were 
known. The first complete copy of that Author 
was brought to Rome at the instance of Poggio, 
by Nicholas of Treves, a German Monk. 
Quinetiam ut veterum erueret monumenta virorum 

Nee sineret turpem tot bona ferre situm, 
Ausus barbaricos populos, penitusque reposta 

Poscere Lingonicis oppida celsa jugis. 
Illius ergo manu, divina poemata Sili 

Italici redeunt usque legenda suis. 
Et ne nos lateat variorum cultus agrorum 

Ipse Columella? grande reportat opus. 
Et te Lucreti, longo post tempore, tandem 

Civibus et patriae reddit habere tua?. 
Tartareis potuit fratrem revocare tenebris 

Alterna Pollux dum statione movet; 
Conjugis ac rursus nigras subitum lacunas 

Euridice sequitur fila canora sui. 
Poggius at sospes nigra e caligine tantos 

Ducit ubi oeternum lux sit aperta viros." 

Roscoe's Lorenzo de Medici. 



NOTES. 0,0$ 



Page 157. 



" The exil'd Priests desert their native plains, 
And claim protection 'midst a host of foes." 

As the emigrant priests were treated with 
undeserved severity by two distinguished writers, 
a real pleasure is felt, in the insertion, among 
these notes, of the inscribed memorial which 
they left behind them at Winchester, of their 
gratitude to the British nation for protection 
and maintenance. 

" FAVENTE DEO OPT. MAX. 

Diu sospes et incolumis, 

In suorum decus et delicias, 

In exterorum admirationem et perfuguim 

vivat 

Georgius III. 

Mag: Britan: &c. Rex puissimus ! 

QEterno pacis beneficio gaudeat ! 

Jugi pietatis scientiae et opum laude 

Efflorescat 

Nobilissima Gens Britannica 

Quae 

Politicarum immemor querelarum 

Clerum Gallicanum 
Innumeris calamitatibus oppressum, 



210 NOTES. 

Patriis sedibus expulsum, 

Terris et alto jactatum, 

Almae Parentis instar, 

Hospitali gremio excepit benignissime, 

Voluntaria cunctorum regni ordinum subscriptione 

Aluit generosissime." 

Page 160. 
" Lo ! Agrippina mingles with the guests." 

" A collation was presented in the library, 
consisting of various sorts of confectionary, served 
in gold baskets, with spiced wines, &c. whilst 
rows of chairs were placed in the great room 
beyond, which had first received the company 
above stairs. A large vacant space was left in 
front of the seats. The assembly no sooner 
occupied them, than Lady Hamilton appeared 
in the character of Agrippina, bearing the ashes 
of Germanicus in a golden urn, and as presenting 
herself before the Roman people with the design 
of exciting them to revenge the death of her 
husband ; who after being declared joint Emperor 
by Tiberius, fell a victim to his envy, and is 
supposed to have been poisoned by his order at 
the head of the forces which he was leading 



NOTES. 21 £ 

against the rebellious Armenians. Lady Ha- 
milton displayed with truth and energy every 
gesture, attitude, and expression of countenance 
which could be conceived in Agrippina herself, 
best calculated to have moved the passions of the 
Romans in behalf of their favourite General. 
The action of her head, of her hands and arms in 
the various position of the urn, in her manner of 
presenting it before the Romans, or of holding it 
up to the gods in the act of supplication, was 
most classically graceful : every change of dress, 
principally of the head, to suit the different 
situations in which she successively presented 
herself, was performed instantaneously, with the 
most perfect ease, and without retiring, or 
scarcely turning aside a moment from the 
spectators/' Brit ton's Font hill Abbey. 

Page 162. 

" Nor should the Castle's wreck unnotic'd stand, 
Where in the civil wars the intrepid Blanch 
Maintain'd the fray assign'd her by her lord." 

" In the history of this castle, no event of 
particular importance occurs till the reign of 
Charles I. when it was besieged by a detachment 



212 NOTES. 

of the Parliamentary army 1300 strong, under 
Sir Edward Hungerforff. At this period Lord 
Arundel was at Oxford attending his Majesty, 
and the custody of the castle was entrusted to his 
lady (Blanch, daughter to the Earl of Worcester) 
who showed herself truly worthy of the con- 
fidence which her husband had reposed in her 
resolution and fidelity. With a garrison con- 
sisting of no more than twenty-five men, she 
bravely withstood every effort of the enemy to 
obtain possession of the place, during a vigorous 
bombardment of five days, and at length con- 
sented to surrender only upon the most honour- 
able terms, choosing rather to perish herself than 
give up her brave adherents to the vengeance of 
the republican troops. These terms, of which 
the original copy is still preserved by the present 
noble owner, were as follows : — 

"Wardour Castle, the 8th of May, 1643. 

Whereas the Lady Blanch Arundel, after five 
days siege, offered to surrender to us the castle 
of Wardour, upon disposition, and hath given 
her word to surrender it. 

These are therefore to assure her Ladyship of 
these conditions following : 



NOTES* £13 

That the said castle, and whatsoever is within 
it, shall be surrendered forthwith. 

That the said Lady Blanch, with all the 
gentlewomen and other women servants, shall 
have their lives, and all fitting respect due to 
persons of their sex and quality; and be safely 
conveyed to Bath if her Ladyship likes, not to 
Bristol ; there to remain till we have given 
account to the Parliament of her work. 

That all the men within the castle shall come 
forth and yield themselves prisoners unto us, 
who shall all have their lives, except such as have 
merited otherwise by the laws of the kingdom 
before their coming to this place, and such as 
shall refuse or neglect to come forth unto us. 

That there shall be care taken that the said 
Lady Blanch shall have all things fitting for 
a person of her quality, both for her journey, 
and for her abiding until the Parliament give 
further order ; and the like for the other gentle- 
women, who shall have their wearing apparel. 

That there shall be a true inventory taken of 
all the goods which shall be put in safe custody 
until the further pleasure of the Parliament be 
signified therein. 

F 



214 NOTES. 

That her Ladyship, the gentlewomen and 
servants aforesaid, shall be protected by us, 
according to her Ladyship's desire. 

(Signed) Edward Hungerford, (S.) 
With, Thode." (S.) 

Such were the conditions upon which the 

heroic Lady Arundel and her brave garrison 

agreed to surrender the castle. No sooner, 

however, had they done so, than the republican 

commanders violated their engagement in every 

article except those respecting the preservation 

of lives. Not only was the castle plundered of 

all its valuables, but many of its most costly 

ornaments and pictures were destroyed, and all 

the outhouses levelled with the ground. The 

very wearing apparel of the ladies was seized, 

and they themselves sent prisoners to Shaftsbury, 

whence the Lady Arundel was removed to Bath 

and separated from her sons, who were sent to 

Dorchester." 

Brit ton's Sketches of Wilts. 

" In vain doth the mother entreat that these 
pretty pledges of her lord's affection may not be 
snatched from her. In vain do the children 



NOTES. 215 

embrace and hang about the neck of their 
mother, and implore help from her, that neither 
knows how to keep them, nor yet how to part 
from them ; but the rebels having lost all bowels 
of compassion, remain inexorable. The com- 
plaints of the mother, the pitiful cry of the 
children, prevail not; like ravenous wolves they 
seize on the prey, and though they do not crop, 
yet they transplant these olive branches, that 
stood about their parent's table." 

Seward's Anecdotes. 

Page 163. 

*' In minstrel's guise he seeks the hostile camp, 
Lulling suspicion by his magic harp." 

Fingens se joculatorem assumptft cithara. 

Ingulphi Hist : 

Assumption of the bardic profession for pur- 
poses of disguise was a frequent and successful 
project. " Cum ergo alterius modi aditum non 
haberet (Bardulphus) rasit capillos suos et 
barbam, cultumque Joculatoris cum cithara fecit. 
Deinde intra castra deambulans, modulis quos in 
lym cpmponebat sese citharistam exhibebat." 
Galf. mon: lib: 7. c. 1. 



216 NOTES. 

Page 165. 

"As was the Dane's in Ethanduna's vale." 

There are two opinions, exclusive of the one 
mentioned in the Essay, respecting the site of 
Alfred's victory over the Danes. I will lay 
before my readers the different sentiments of two 
ingenious antiquaries : — " With respect to the 
field of this famous battle Ethandune, our most 
respectable topographers as Camden, Gibson, 
Spelman, &c. without hesitation pronounce that 
it is Eddington, near Westbury. But can we 
imagine, that the West-Saxons would have 
assembled within ten or twelve miles of the 
Danish army, for Eddington is not further than 
this from Brixton, and have employed two days 
in making a march of this length, when their 
object was to take the enemy by surprize? It 
remains that we should fix this celebrated 
Ethandune at Heddington, not far from Chip- 
penham, a place of great antiquity, as the editor 
of Camden proves. In this case Alfred's army 
will have moved about 15 miles to the first 
encampment, and about 12 the next morning 
to the field of battle. But what seems to decide 
this much agitated question in favour of the 



NOTES. 217 

conjecture here proposed, is a passage hitherto 
overlooked in the history of Ethelward, the near 
relation of Alfred, in which the Danish army 
here defeated is described to be that of Chip- 
penham : " interea cooptavit bellum Alfred 
Rex adversus exercitus qui in Chippenham fuere, 
in loco Ethandune." Lib : 4. c. 3, 

" It is very probable that at this time the Danish 
king resided in the palace, which we know to 
have been at Chippenham, whilst the main body 
of his army was encamped at Heddington, within 
six miles of him," 

Milner's History of Winchester, p. 129. 

No great reliance, it should seem, is to be 
placed on the above quotation, for Dr. Percy 
asserts on the authority of Nicholson, "as for 
Ethelward, his book is judged to be an imperfect 
translation of the Saxon Chronicle." 

See Reliques, fyc.p. 63. vol. 1. 

The opinion in favour of Eddington, near 
Westbury, is as follows : - — " Jacet nimirum 
Eddendum subtus montem Bratton, altum, 
proeruptum, difficilisque ascensus, cujus in 
summo jugo restant etiamnum Danicorum valla 
et fossae. Unde aquationis gratia ad radices 
montis duo brachia reliquis montis partibus 



218 NOTES. 

admodum proecipitibus deducta visuntur. Illi 
vero castrametationis incommodo fatigati, et a 
regiarum copiarum (quae nullibi prorsus com- 
paruerunt) timore liberati, Eddendunam et ad 
vicinam planitiem se contulerunt. Hoc ipsorum 
descecsu regi indicato verisimile est ipsorum 
oculis propriaque praesentia explorare veritatem 
voluisse. Visaque rei bene gerendae occasione, 
occultissime quam poterat, Rex exercitum in 
foresta sive silva permagna e fidissimis suis 
subditis coegit. Nocturnis itineribus et per loca 
sylvestria et infrequentia incedens, tertio mane se 
suosque inter exercitum hostilem et eorum 
castra posuit, eosque nullo ordine vel munimento 
metatos, clade ilia maxima et celeberrima affecit; 
adeo ut iis praempto ad castra receptu aliud 
proximum sed imbelle castellum ingredi coacti 
sunt : ibique commeatu omni interclusi sese 
dediderunt." Hearne. 



Page 168. 



Nor scorn the truths 



Rever'd by Newton, Bacon, Locke, and Boyle." 

u There is a Bacon, comprehensive, clear, 
Exact and elegant ; in one rich soul 
Plato the stagyrite and Tully join'd. 



NOTES. £]9 

Why need I name thy Boyle, whose pious search 
Amid the dark recesses of His works 
The great Creator sought. And why thy Locke 
Who made the whole internal world his own? 
Let Newton, pure intelligence ! whom God 
To mortals lent, to trace his boundless works 
From laws sublimely simple, speak thy fame 
In all philosophy." Thomsom. 

Page 170. 

" No more the Hindu widow shall repose 

Her votive person on the funeral pile, 

Losing in fondness her excess of pain, 

And blessing flames which waft her to her spouse." 

" In the gallery of manuscripts at Paris, is an 
Indian novel with fine lively pictures, invaluable 
for illustrating the costumes and usages of India, 
containing at the end a widow, who is burning 
herself with the corpse of her husband, with this 
inscription, "these flames arise to my love.' ' 

Kotzebues Travels. 



178. 

" Thou too, my cot, whose humble roof I rear'd 
Amid the ruins of a falling pile, 
The Muse shall not disdain to celebrate 
Thy calm retreat before is clos'd her song." 



220 NOTES. 

In delineating his residence, the author avails 
himself of a suitable oppoitunity, in a conclu- 
ding note, of making his personal obligations to 
particular friends, viz. to the most noble the 
Marquess of Bath, for frequent instances of 
liberal attention; to the Rev. Henry Hetley, 
Prebendary of Horningsham, for invariable 
courtesy and confidence - y and to his Parishioners 
for long and dutiful attachment. May He, who 
witnesses the sincerity of these acknowledgments, 
repay them, by His blessings, sevenfold into their 
bosoms. Amen. Amen. 



dockers, Printers, Fi'ome. 



Published by the same Author, 
And may be had of Cadell, Strand, price 

SERMONS, 

In one volume. 



Also, 

A SERMON, WITH NOTES, 

Price 2s. 
On the Death of his late Majesty King George III. 




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